“There is no type of quest more hated than the Escort Quest. Game Developers have used this quest to show their disdain and hatred of their players for decades. Players are forced to lose their freedom and protect slow and stupid NPCs while monsters appear and savage them. The hardest fights are often right at the end, causing the quest to fail and increasing the torture that the players undergo. If you listen closely, you can hear the faint maniacal laughter of the developers every time a quest NPC dies.”

  From “Game Development, a Villain’s Guide” by Nina Gaiden.

  Year 1, Month 1, Day 2, 14:00

  Leaving the village increased the tension level throughout the force. Everyone kept their heads on a swivel, looking out for possible enemies. The team peeled south before heading towards Miller’s Crossing. The goal was to make it to the south gate and get to the portal field as fast as possible. Torgon knew it would only take two hours if there was no opposition. He also knew that there was zero chance of having no opposition.

  The first fifteen minutes went by without issue. They made excellent progress towards their destination. Then the trouble started. The lead scouts reported small groups of goblins moving ahead of the column while Torgon and the rear scouts detected signs of a large force moving behind them.

  Torgon messaged, “Ovarrix, have everyone pick up the pace and push forward. I think they’re trying to set up an anvil and we have the hammer following us. We’ll fall behind and attempt contact with their lead elements. If you get the opportunity, slaughter those little groups and ensure they don’t become one big group.”

  Ovarrix issued fresh orders for the army, “Let’s move faster, sides push out farther and I want the bow groups to move to the front and engage any goblins in our path. We need to thin their numbers before they start coming right for us. Elder Chestnut, I want to move the dog riders up front and help screen us with their bows.” The elder nodded and soon the corgi riders were part of the vanguard.

  The reorganized front line increasingly came into contact with goblin units and arrows arced out to meet them. Cries of pain rang out, and goblin bodies littered the force’s path. The snarls of wolves carried on the wind behind the army. A group of goblin wolf riders wielding spears rushed into the rear guard and a furious melee broke out. The rear guard used the trees to split the wolf riders and took advantage of their numbers. Several players were bitten and some took nasty spear wounds, but they won, even if it increased the distance they lagged behind the main body.

  Faint drum beats now reached their ears along with the dull pounding of many feet moving in unison. Torgon looked at Mark and Steve before Steve said what they were thinking. “Well, Shit.”

  Hundreds of goblins, orcs, ogres and even a twenty-foot-tall giant could now be seen in the distance. They were too far to engage but they advanced relentlessly. Torgon messaged Ovarrix again, “Large army behind us, much too large to win against. We’re going to start angling north towards the east gate of the city and try to draw them off. Don’t slow down for anything, just punch through any opposition you encounter and push for those gates. Godspeed.”

  The monster forces caught sight of Torgon’s little group, and they started running towards them. The fifteen men ran from the hundreds of foes. They ran, knowing that their lives depended on not getting caught. Stray arrows rained down around them. One caught a man in his ankle, and he stumbled and fell. Before he could rise, arrows stuffed him like a pincushion, sending him off to respawn at the guild hall. Grim determination filled the survivors, it was less than a mile to the east gate of Miller’s Crossing and if they slowed, they died.

  The main body was only a few hundred yards from the south gate, but the forward scouts spotted a large line of goblins in their path. “Ovarrix, sir, there are at least 200 goblins in a line about 50 across and 4 deep just on the edge of the forest between us and the city. They’re not facing us yet but are taking pot shots at random adventurers near the city walls.”

  “We’re going to punch a hole in their line then wheel and funnel all the non-combatants through, then we’ll form a line on the other side of them and stage a fighting withdrawal to the gates. Let’s get the dog archers through and let them terrorize the goblins from an open field.” Ovarrix oriented the groups and then had everyone tighten the formation. He and Allestor moved to form the tip of the spear and passed silent instructions for the charge to begin.

  The trees started thinning in front of Torgon’s group. Only another 300 yards to go. They were down to nine men now, four more dying to goblin arrows and one being squashed under a boulder hurled by the giant. Ahead they noticed a large formation of players. Over a hundred Red Hat Raiders surrounded a group of thirty adventurers from a smaller guild. He hastily fired off a message to one of the people in the small guild telling them to run for the gates when the raiders were distracted.

  Torgon addressed his unlucky group of survivors. “Well gentlemen, we made it this far, but we aren’t going to make it to the city. If we play this right, we can kill our enemies and make some new friends when we die. We’ll taunt the Red Hat Raiders and get their attention. Sell your lives as dearly as you can, buy time for army behind us to hit them. When we break from the cover of the trees, act casual, like we stumbled into their camp.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Torgon, Mark, Steve and the rest walked out of the tree line, spread out, put their backs against tree trunks and paused, listening to the Red Hat Raider leader, Ron Don Morgan trying to extort the Swamp Donkey Hunting Club Guild. Torgon pitched his voice so everyone could hear. “Well well well, if it isn’t our old buddy Ron. Trying to buy yourself some guards to protect you from rabbits?”

  Ron turned and stared at Torgon, his face seething in anger. “You! Everybody, CHARGE! Kill the Riskers!” Every member of the Red Hat Raiders burst into a dead run at the nine men standing at the edge of the trees. The other guild immediately turned to run for the city, forgotten in Morgan’s fury. The Raiders charge reached their target right as goblins, orcs, ogres and a towering giant broke into the open. The overwhelming force blew through the Raiders and surrounded them all, slaughtering indiscriminately.

  The survivors of the long run watched in glee as Ron Don Morgan was turned into paste by the giant’s club. They jumped into the fray, attacking monsters and raiders before the press of numbers brought them down. Pain filled their minds as sharp blades filled their bodies. They breathed their last and the darkness of respawning claimed them. The only survivors were the members of the Swamp Donkeys who made their way safely inside Miller’s Crossing.

  “You Have Died! You must remain inside your guild hall for three hours and you have incurred an Experience debt of 1,000 points. This will be taken from future experience earned and free experience banked may also be spent to eliminate it. Your basic sling has been dropped alongside your body. It will remain with your body until it is retrieved or until twelve hours have passed. Try to be more careful in the future.”

  Meanwhile, Ovarrix and Allestor led players and faeries in a glorious charge into the goblin lines. They smashed through the ranks and immediately wheeled to both sides, peeling the opening wide. The dog archers broke through and turned parallel to the goblin lines, racing up and down, peppering them with silvery arrows. The stag drawn sleigh led the rush of the non-combatants and a small unit of players guarding Dusty straight to the southern gate.

  Ovarrix led the forces on the left and Allestor led the forces on the right. No goblin could stand against them, their skill completely overmatched by the pair. The surprise and ferocity pushed them back and let the Risk members, adults and children alike, form a semicircle that gradually began pulling back to the city gates, covering the withdrawal. The goblins were timid and slow and soon found themselves taking fire from the city guards on the wall of the town.

  The faeries and people cheered when the goblins fled back into the forest. The small army made their way to the portal leading back to their guild hall. Dusty was the first to arrive inside and she was greeted by Torgon, the rear guard and the rest of the casualties. The jubilant mood spread as the entrance filled with excited people and faeries.

  Torgon stepped up to greet the triumphant army. “What took you so long? We’ve been here a few minutes already.”

  Hyperia scoffed, “Unlike you, we didn’t take the death express.”

  A couple of the children blurted out, “Did dying hurt?”

  Torgon nodded slowly. “Yeah, it hurt, but it was so freaking worth it. Close to a thousand orcs and goblins along with a giant chased us and we ran into our old pal Ron Don Morgan and a hundred of his closest friends. They didn’t make it either. I can’t say for certain, but it seems like dying isn’t as scary as it should be. Maybe it’s the certainty that it isn’t permanent and that cuts down on the fear. The pain really does suck, but it isn’t too hard to shake off. I don’t plan on dying again but I’m not terrified of the prospect.” The children nodded solemnly as he turned to Dusty and the patiently waiting Elder Chestnut, “Let’s get that sapling planted and welcome you properly to your new home.”

  Dusty took the hearth tree sapling from her inventory and handed it over to the elder. He reverently carried the tree into the guild hall and found an open area to plant it. He called everyone over and the faeries and humans all joined hands. “Blessed Earth Mother, please welcome us to our new home. Grant us your warmth and protection and encourage us to grow so that we may serve the cycles of life. Bless this tree and this land and allow us to join you in bringing forth the bounty of the world.”

  Everyone gathered felt the tug of mana being pulled from their bodies and it moved to swirl around the sapling. A kaleidoscope of colors enveloped the trunk, mana soaking into the wood and causing it to grow. The sapling grew into a mighty oak tree over the course of a few minutes, visibly rising and extending branches out to shade the area. Wooden homes sprouted and places of shelter for the faeries appeared as the oak fully formed.

  “Quest Completed! Your guild has completed the quest A Faerie Good Day to Die Part 3. You have received 500 free experience points and 50 guild contribution points. The Faerie Hearth Tree has been constructed in the Guild Base. For saving over 200 Faeries from certain doom your guild has been awarded a basic book of spells, the blueprint Basic Faerie Wine and the blueprint Basic Faerie Root Beer.”

  “Regional Notification. The guild Risk of Injury has become the first to complete a rare quest chain in Miller’s Crossing. They have gained members of an NPC race as their allies and members.”

  “Congratulations! For being the first guild to complete a rare quest chain your guild is awarded a basic book of armor blueprints and a basic book of jewelry blueprints.”

  “Regional Notification. The event, Invasion of the Monsters, has begun. Armies of Orcs, Goblins, Ogres and Giants are invading the region of Miller’s Crossing. Players Beware! The danger level is increasing but so are the rewards. Take care, intelligent monsters will now hunt you. The event will end when the leader of the monster forces is slain or the town of Miller’s Crossing falls to the invaders. Your contributions to the efforts will be noted and rewarded. Guilds and players alike will be rewarded based on their contribution levels. Do you have the ability and tenacity to change the world? Your opportunity is now.”

  Torgon wearily considered the increasing demands on the guild for time and effort and the growing responsibilities of everyone in charge. Less than two full days in the game, and not even eight hours in the real world had passed. Instead of a simple starting zone to get their feet wet, they were now going to be committed to fending off an army. The second night in the brand-new universe of NEMO was fast approaching and though his wolf pelt blankets were lovely, soft, warm and deep. He had promises to keep and gear to craft before his sleep.