Dungeon Sniper

The representatives agreed that they would meet back in two days to discuss the final spot for the tournaments. The initial plan was to use the ruined Deltaris Complex, but the favor turned to follow the tradition and use the original colosseum 'below' the Gate.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but Alstair was being a tease again and keeping quiet all of a sudden. I felt like punching myself if I only knew for sure Alstair could feel the pain too.

The meeting was over. Before the Dwarves left the room, they asked how the search for the 'Minetown Bomber' was going. The Runnels were trained, prudent professionals, and no one looked in my direction, not even Dumont. It seemed as if the Minetown Massacre would remain as a cold case for now.

Gart was the last one to leave the room, with a hearty 'good luck' pat on the shoulder.

Finally, everyone left the room, except the Runnels and me.

Worra walked back into the room, looking considerably more comfortable now that the room was less crowded than before.

"When did I ever sign up for this?"

I could not help but growl at everyone. They looked so calm while I felt... cheated.

"The moment you decided to free the Humans from slavery?" said Janon tentatively.

"You want to know the truth? I never cared about the Humans. I just wanted to blow up Castle Deltaris."

"Then the moment you decided to blow up Caslte Deltaris. You've got to admit, Beta. You made an impact. A big one. You're a hero to the Humans here now," said Kevlon.

"But I don't want to be a hero."

"Well, it looks like you don't have any choice."

That did it. A vein in the back of my head snapped. It had been a long time.

"No choice. No CHOICE? Yeah, why am I always forced into this kind of stuff? The lair, Minetown, then you guys and here, and let's go further back, shall we? Stupid World Company forcing me to a job, and did I have a f.u.c.k.i.n.g CHOICE when I drank that poisoned champagne?"

I did, technically, but they did not know about that.

The Runnels, naturally, stared at me worriedly, awkwardly, as if looking at a wounded dog. With rabies. The terminal, end-stage rabies.

"What is this champagne?" asked Baraka.

"Seriously?" I sighed, "It's a drink. Alcoholic beverage... sparkling wine."

"We do have sparkling wine. Would you like some? You look as if you can use one right now. Let me go get it."

"No thanks, B. I don't drink. I mean, I used to, but now I can't."

Baraka frowned broodingly.

"Because you fear we 'poisoned' it, or you prefer a 'poisoned' wine?"

It was then that I realized that I had not drunk a single alcohol since my arrival to the Dungeon. Granted I did not have much of a chance to frequent a bar, but the through of drinking—

I felt like throwing up, so I went over to the window and opened it to get some fresh air.

"Why would anyone prefer a poisoned wine, Baraka?" I could hear Kevlon sigh, as if from a far distance.

"If it is a particularly tasty poison, then," answered Baraka nonchalantly, also sounding far off.

"Are you all right?" asked Lapines, approaching me and running her delicate hand over my back soothingly.

I was breathing heavily. All this time, things had been too hectic. I was forced to sleep on the ground, in a makeshift cave, either chased or captured, killing to avoid getting killed.

Last night was probably the first night I had slept free of tension, free of having to wake up to find myself surviving and killing in this alien world. How long had it been since I came here? Two, three weeks now? But it felt like a year at least.

I was finally relaxing, and another thing came up. I knew I was panicking more than necessary, but I had no control over it.

"Are you sure you do not want a drink?" asked Baraka.

"Baraka, if you want to drink, go to the bar and drink by yourself," snapped Worra.

"Orcs do not drink alone. Orcs need company to drink."

"And I need you to shut your mouth and let Beta collect himself."

I felt grateful for both Baraka and Worra. I straightened my back and breathed in the fresh air from the outside.

"I'm fine now. Sorry about the yelling, guys," I turned and apologized to the Runnels. I glanced at Elysia, who was frowning apprehensively, but as a friend, I felt.

"Yeah, you were a little weird, weirder," laughed Janon awkwardly.

"I've seen the retired guards act like that," said Dumont sharply.

"You know the ones that had to fire arrows down to the Human soldiers outside the city wall? Half of them retired, and most of them not even a hundred years old yet."

"What's that got to do with Beta?" asked Kevlon.

"The sight of bow and arrows makes them sick. They run out of the bar, puking all over the street. And now that there are no more Humans cleaning after them, they'll be more careful not to come out of their homes."

Trauma, added Dumont emphatically at the end.

"So Beta is frightened of alcohol?" asked Baraka.

"I'm not scared. I just, I quit drinking, let's put it that way," I snapped irritably.

"I don't know, Dumont sounds right, for once," nodded Kevlon worriedly.

"For ever," added Lapines.

"I've been right plenty of times before," protested Dumont.

"Yeah, sure. But seriously, that explains some, if not most, of Beta's behaviors."

"What behaviors?" I frowned to Kevlon, who was already scratching at his smooth, pointy chin contemplatively.

"Let's see. There's your self-destructive nature, proclivity to blowing things up, that ruthless slaughter of the southern Goblins—"

"Legendary," Illisiv blinked his sparkling eyes innocently.

"—You name your weapons and refer to them as people—"

"Very creepy, if you ask me," said Worra.

"—Lack of planning and organization, erratic jumps between being righteous and selfish, the urge to make jokes all the time—"

"Most of them inappropriate, and disturbing," nodded Lapines.

"All right, you can stop now. I get it."

Shit. The Elves were right. I was traumatized. I just did not know it until now.

"Well, I'm damaged. What do I do now, doctors?"

I sighed and looked around the amateur shrinks in the room.

"—Needlessly and often offensively sarcastic in a means of self-defense—"

"I said I got it, Kev."

"Well, we can't have you keep blowing things up so you can have peace of mind."

"I really don't think I blow things up for 'fun.'"

"I never said 'fun.' Those are your words," Kevlon pointed at me admonishingly.

Damn. He got me. Well, bombs were pretty fun.

"No Boom-Booms. Right then. What do you suggest I do to, like you said, keep me at peace?"

"Ooh. Start a collection. I recommend rocks. There are some pretty ones by the riverside," said Janon excitedly.

"Sleep?" said Lapines.

"Hunt." Worra, obviously.

"Fight. To near death." Very Orcish.

"Eat. A pity you can't drink though, that's like losing half the fun," Dumont clicked his tongue.

"I feel like I can come up with a special concoction to cure your anxiety—"

"No, Kevlon. Don't even think about it," that came from everyone.

I turned to the only Elf who did not suggest anything yet.

Elysia met my gaze, avoided it for a second, and shrugged resignedly.

"I don't know. Jog through the woods?"

The Runnels grumbled and booed in unison.

"Boring."

"What are you, a deer?"

"Why are you being such an Elf?"

"For a moment, I wished I had heard it was a 'jug' of something. A jug of a wine called 'Through the Woods,'" said the Orc dreamily.

"I like it," I said, to everyone's exasperated interjections.

"Only if it means that we'll be jogging together. What do you say, Ellie? Are you going to be running next to me?" I asked eagerly to Elysia.

Elysia felt everyone's stare and gave in finally.

"Fine."

I did not care what anyone else thought.

It was a date.

.

.

.

"It's really peaceful out here," I said, breathing with control as Elysia and I jogged through the dense, serene woods... along with Worra and Lapines.

Strolling a beautiful forest path with three beautiful Elfinas felt like a dream, but it was not the picture I had had in mind when I got out of Deltaris with Elysia.

"I'm just on my way to hunting. What, you think I'm following you or something?" growled Worra when asked why she was coming along.

"I like running. Next to napping, of course," hopped Lapines as she answered the same question.

Elysia did not seem to mind the company. In fact, she seemed relieved that she did not have to be alone with me the whole afternoon.

The Elves were extremely light-footed, and there was no way I could keep up with them even with the enhanced Fitness and Hyper Hind Legs Perks. The breathless me slowed down to a walk, while the sweat-less Elfinas matched the pace and began to walk as well.

"So, the tournament," I brought up the subject casually.

"Colosseum Ultimatum," corrected Worra.

"Right. What's so special about it anyway? Other than its name, of course."

"It's like a mini-war among the six races. Instead of thousands dying, only five have to die, at maximum. Efficient and exciting, don't you think?"

"Yeah, about that. You don't have to actually kill the others, right? You can spare them? Show mercy."

"You can, but where's the fun in that?" scoffed Worra.

"So you want me to die out there. And to think that you liked me, Worra."

"I don't like you," said Worra hastily, her face red with... indignity?

"I'm not shocked. What I'm shocked is that Lapines genuinely likes this colosseum stuff. You can't do that, Nessy, not with your sweet, innocent face."

"Oh, grow up. The last decade or so has been so boring without the tournament."

And there I was, forgetting Lapines was an eight-year-old grandma disguised as a pretty teen. Which made me wonder.

"How old are you, Elysia?" I turned and asked.

"One hundred and twenty-five," said Elysia simply.

That was not even a grandmotherly age. That was a mummy-ly age.

I kept my silence. With Lapines I could joke around, but things had been a little awkward with Elysia the past few days. For me, at least.

"You're not going to ask me how old I am?" asked Worra abruptly, probably a little irked that she felt left out... or just picking on me for no reason. I could never get through her s.e.xy frowns and husky voice.

"Wait. Let me make a guess on this one."

I stared at Worra's sternly beautiful face. She avoided my intent gaze, as if irritated.

"I'm going to go with 'two hundred.'"

Worra blinked. The other Elfinas stopped and stared too.

Worra then turned and sprinted ahead without a word, fast and furious.

"You can only joke about so many things. Age isn't one of them," Lapines clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"I wasn't joking."

Lapines gasped. Even Elysia gaped at me.

"What? What did I do?"

"You just called her a hag," Lapines shook her head and ran forward, trying to catch up with distressed Worra.

"No, I didn't."

"You kind of did," nodded Elysia pitifully.

"I didn't mean to! How would I possibly know that two-hundred was too old?" I yelled towards the direction the two Elfinas had left off.

Seriously, what the hell was the difference between one-twenty-five and two-hundred.

The good news was that I was finally alone with Elysia. I caught her smiling faintly, only to revert back to her forced stony face upon meeting my eyes.

"You're participating in the tournament, whether you like it or not," said Elysia, walking ahead.

"Yeah, and you can clearly see how thrilled I am," I scoffed.

"It has always been an honor to be the champion representing one's race. And Worra and Lapines were exaggerating back there. Deaths do occur in the tournament, but not as often as you'd think."

"How often then?"

"Just two or three, every year."

"That's fifty-percent of the participants dying at the end of the day. That sounds pretty 'often' to me."

"It's a miniature war. A duel that weighs for thousands of lives with each swing and hit. It is truly a spectacle, Beta, the atmosphere, the spectator... and only the proven warriors and fighters are chosen and elected to be the champions."

"I get it. It's an honor. But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I don't like it either, this time."

Elysia stopped. I halted too, staring and blinking at Elysia, wondering what she had meant by her last words.

"I will be off for a while, with Worra and Lapines, patrolling up to the abandoned Western Camp... and we'll spend a few more days there," said Elysia briskly.

"For how long?"

"Until the Colosseum Ultimatum."

"That's another two weeks. You know, I was hoping to jog with you a lot more, and maybe you could help me with the training for the tournament and whatnot."

"The rest of the Runnels will be at Deltaris, so seek their help. My advice is to practice melee combat with Dumont first. Baraka is a good teacher, and while Dumont is an able fighter himself, he does not care for teaching. He just wants to get a piece of you, or anyone, opposite him. Janon will maintenance your gear always in top condition, and no matter what, simply never drink anything from Kevlon and you'll be fine."

Elysia seemed earnest, and lovely.

"By 'help,' I didn't mean training. I just meant I want to have you staying by my side."

I reached for Elysia's hand. Bold move, I knew. But Elysia did not swat away my hand. She seemed apologetic, regretful... for what I did not know, yet.

"Even if I wanted to stay, it would just get in the way of 'our' training."

I was ready to say anything back to try to change her mind, and then I caught the uneasy nuance in her last words.

"What do you mean 'our' training?"

Elysia had just told me she would be away from Deltaris, from me.

"Yours with the boys, and mine with the girls."

... No. Not her. Anyone but her.

Elysia saw the devastated look on my face and smiled sardonically.

"Yes, Beta. I am the Elf champion."