Return to Jorgaldur

The journey to the elven kingdom wasn’t easy. He would need to make a long detour to reach the only path that the merchants could follow, the only one that didn’t need to go through the heart of the forest, in which there were dangers that surpassed the power of the high human. Or, rather, it was the only one known, for there was another one, a dangerous passage guarded by an extremely terrible being, but which was the one that the Oracle had suggested. Although somewhat hesitant, he had decided to follow his advice and go there.

However, before that, he wanted to reach one of the places where, supposedly, he could find magical platforms to upgrade his equipment. He hoped that the restrictions weren’t as strict as in the capital. Or, better yet, that they were abandoned but functional.

But, what he didn’t expect, was to find no clue of their location. He had climbed a small rocky mountain, reaching the top to contemplate the entire landscape under his feet, but there was nothing there, although he was convinced that it was the place that was marked on the map.

He stayed there for some time, under the sun’s rays, thanking the slightly cool wind that was stroking his face, and trying to distinguish every point on the horizon. Finally, he went down to find a more protected place to eat, and to check the map for other magical platforms. That had been a wrong clue.

He had already decided where to go and had almost finished eating a still hot sandwich, with slices of minotaur meat, some vegetables whose name he didn’t know, and a slightly spicy sauce. It was quite tasty and unique, so he tasted it slowly, enjoying the calm in that place. However, the last piece was swallowed hurriedly, after what he got up and descended in a hurry. He had heard the sound of metals clashing, and knew what it meant.

He soon found the origin. A little below his position, there was a group of warriors equipped with heavy armor, and wielding maces, spears and, above all, hammers. They were defending themselves, in what looked like the entrance to a cave, against a group of trolls that doubled them in height and number.

Bluish green, in the game the trolls possessed great strength, an important regenerative power and resistance to magic. And seeing how their wounds were being healed, it was also like that in reality. However, their weakness to sunlight was only a children’s tale.

They were all levels between 40 and 45, and although it could be thought that the dwarfs were at a big disadvantage, it wasn’t so clear. The trolls’ numerical superiority couldn’t be made effective at the entrance of the cave, in which there was no space for everyone, while its largest size was rather a problem due to the height of the ceiling, which didn’t reach two meters. In addition, the dwarfs used their weapons with the skill of veteran warriors, knowing where to attack the trolls and how to avoid their clubs.

However, even so, they were really at a disadvantage. The injured trolls could retire to rest and heal, being their position taken by others more rested, while the dwarfs couldn’t afford to stop even for a moment, since it would break their formation. Their strong resistance allowed them to endure, but not eternally, and it had become a war of attrition.

“Shit, if this goes on we’ll have to seal another exit. Weren’t we supposed to have a pact with the trolls?” one of them cursed.

“Damn trolls… They may be the renegades… Are reinforcements coming or not?” Insisted a female voice, whose figure didn’t differ from the previous one. It was impossible to distinguish dwarfs men from women while in their armor, except for the beard.

“They are orc-cleaning another entrance. More renegade bastards. They tell us to hold on,” another one reported.

“Suuuuure, hoooold on. All in all, we’ve only been fucking scratching our bellies for twenty hours,” the one who had asked sarcastically complained.

“They better have the damn beer ready when we return,” said another of them.

“The beer and some big pincers to get the fucking armor out. With so many dents, they sure don’t come out just like that,” the first one complained.

“Do you remember when madman Trikk was in his fucking armor for a week without being able to take it off?” laughed another of them, while a troll’s toe was crushed under her hammer.

“Hahaha. How to forget it? He just said: ‘Fuck… Help me with the helmet, so I can have a drink!’”

“Haha. That bastard still keeps the helmet with a drink-hole. He takes it out every banquet to tell the damn story.”

They seemed to be chatting in a tavern while drinking a mug of beer, but they kept watching their enemies, dodging or stopping their blows, attacking them with their weapons. They were tired, but they didn’t step back.

Suddenly, one of the trolls stumbled, being at the mercy of the dwarfs, who attacked it without hesitation. Its companions couldn’t come to its aid without being exposed, and its regeneration wasn’t enough to counteract the continuous attacks, so it ended up dying, crushed and pierced.

“Shit! And that arrow?” a dwarf wondered, after discovering the one that had stuck in the heel of her deceased enemy.

“Fucking good. Someone else is attacking the trolls,” another pointed.

Several smoking arrows dug into the bodies of the trolls, causing them damage that wasn’t dangerous to their lives, as they failed to penetrate more than a few centimeters into their thick skin. But it was annoying, especially the fire that was imbued in them.

They hoped to overcome the dwarfs with their rotations, so that the interference that was altering their plans enraged them. When they discovered where the arrows were coming from, and the intruder who was shooting them, three of them split from the group and went towards him, confident of ending the trouble.

Meanwhile, the dwarfs wondered who the stranger, or strangers, were. They couldn’t see beyond the entrance of the cave they were protecting, so it was impossible for them to know anything about those timely reinforcements. What they did know was that there were four less trolls to face, and that they were hurt and confused by the arrows.

They looked at each other for a moment before shouting all at once, using the Combined Combat War Cry to intimidate their foes before charging against them. They weren’t going to miss the chance they had to inflict a harsh punishment on their enemies.