[Day 10]

  I woke up.

  Where the hell was I? My eyes felt as if glued together, and my whole body was sticky from something. I finally managed to open my eyes, sit up, and took a look around.

  I wasn’t in the bar anymore. Matter of fact, I was lying on the ground, in between the buildings. There were several goblins around me as well, most of them snoring loudly, still holding onto some wooden mugs.

  My head hurt. Not just that, though, My knuckles felt as if I kept punching stone, and my arms were sore as if I had carried logs for a whole day. This was weird.

  “Finally back from the dead?” Mark hovered above me, looking down. “I am never letting you touch alcohol again. And here they told me that I was a lightweight.”

  “I… can’t remember anything.”

  He scoffed. “Of course you don’t. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Was he talking loudly or was it the aftereffects? “Taking a sip of the drink. The grot.”

  “Great. So you remember nothing. Well, we need to get going to Martin. I’ll catch you up on the way. Also, you might want to text the others. You decided that telling them how much you love them all was the best idea. Bryga was pissed off that you got drunk, but I explained that Fink is most likely safe.” He eyed me as I tried getting up, holding my head. “Who knew you’re such a fun drunk?”

  Oh great. I didn’t feel like checking on my messages at all. At least they’d know it was from a drunk me. “Really funny, Mark. Any idea what time it is?”

  “Nope. Too dark here. But these folks are still asleep, so I reckon that it has to be morning still.”

  Dusting off my pants, I tried to guess my location, but these buildings just all looked too damn similar. My map, usually useful for situations like these, showed me the whole city. How much did I travel?

  I looked at the goblins around me, recognizing them as the ones I drank with. Sighing, I went to find the tavern.

  It only took a minute for Mark to start reminding me of yesterday. “Did you know that the goblins stop saying ‘duh’ when they get drunk? Makes me think that they just force it normally.”

  Please, be silent. My head hurt. “Yeah? Interesting.”

  “They also loved your dancing. It was kind of funny. I wish I had a camera I could record that with.”

  Thank god he didn’t. “Can we just… focus please? Also, how do I get rid of this headache?”

  He chuckled. “You drink more.”

  “Great idea. Definitely doesn’t sound like you want to sabotage me.”

  The tavern was visible now. I recognized the street somewhat. The memories of singing some dumb goblin song about shinies flooding in. I would never touch alcohol again.

  Mark tsked, a smile still on his lips. “I mean it, actually. It helps. Though, I think just getting an antidote could help too. Hopefully Martin has one.”

  “That dude? He definitely does.”

  I approached the building, grabbed the door handle and stepped in. The room seemed the same as it did yesterday, though there weren’t dozens of goblins sitting around the rock tables. There was blood on several of the rocks too, already dried. Martin was crouched next to one of them, wiping it with a wet cloth. His head turned as he heard me step in.

  “Dude, I am never letting you touch alcohol again. What the actual fuck was that?”

  Why was everyone so damn loud? “Quiet. Please.”

  “Oh, feeling hungover? Here, catch.” A bottle appeared in his hand, and he threw it in my direction. I barely registered the motion, but I somehow managed to catch it just as it was about to crash into the ground. [Analyze] showed me that it was a simple antidote. Good to know.

  Downing the potion made me feel better immediately, as if a blanket was lifted off of my eyes, as if my ears were unplugged. Never again.

  Martin watched me finish the drink. “You feel good now? Good, then let me berate you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done yesterday? You almost killed three goblins!”

  Mark raised his hand, stopping Martin. “Hey, they started it.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Cause he’s a goddamn player disguised as a goblin. Of course he’s gonna raise suspicion!”

  “Hey guys, please don’t fight!” Emma appeared from the small storage behind the bar, phasing through walls. “Hey, Shrimpie!” She waved her hand at me, but immediately broke eye contact when I met her eyes.

  “Okay, I feel good now.” I scratched my head, still confused about how such pain could just disappear in a moment. “We wanted to talk about how to get my friend out, right?”

  “Our friends out, yes. My friend is someone that helped me greatly, and I’ve been saving gold to get them out for a week now. That’s why I stole from you.”

  “A week? They still alive?” Mark asked, raising his eyebrow.

  “Yes. I saw her locked in a cage near the altar. She’s low level, and they prefer higher level players for their sacrifices.”

  Hmm? That seemed kind of important. “Why higher level? Does that affect the ritual in any way?”

  He shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe the dragon prefers higher-level flesh? I dunno. I’d probably be gone already if I didn’t know how to brew alcohol. Too bad the bartender who taught me how to make drinks hates me now.”

  “It’s cause you stole from him.” Added Emma, deadpan.

  “Yeah, that’s true. Shouldn’t have left his money unattended.” He grinned.

  Mark’s voice cut in again, a bit more urgent than before. “Okay. Listen. How do we do this? You mentioned the mages having a key? What do we do?”

  Martin sat on one of the rock tables, pulled out a cigar out of his inventory, and lit it up using a lighter. Where the hell did he find those? “It’s not that simple as stealing a key from one of them. But I think we’ve got a good shot.”

  “Still didn’t answer our question.” I said, looking at him.

  He puffed on the cigar, exhaled the smoke, and answered. “First off, you need to find your friend. Can’t rescue someone you don’t know how to find. Then, we have to find one of the three mages, steal the master key, and only then can we get our two friends out.”

  Mark was already looking at his own menu, moving his finger as if writing something down. I still had more questions. “What about the others? The other players, I mean. Do we just leave them here?”

  Martin’s expression turned sour. “I don’t see how we unlock all the cages without the whole clan coming down on us. It’s either we try to save our two friends and most likely die, or we try to get everyone out and we die for sure.”

  I didn’t like that. Even though my first thought was recruitment to the city defense quest, I would have liked to save them either way. Leaving them here to just die seemed… wrong somehow. “There isn’t another way to open the cages? You’re sure?”

  “There is a spell.” He nodded. “One of the three mages created the cages. They are magical artifacts, basically. And he holds the magical key. Good luck convincing him though.”

  Mark’s eyes finally returned to me, and he tried grabbing my shoulder. “Seems like we need to find Fink first. Let’s walk and find him, then return.”

  I looked at the ground, thinking. I didn’t like this, this feeling of something just not being right. I needed fresh air. “Let’s. See you in a bit, Martin. We’ll finish up the plan after.”

  I saw Emma whispering something to Martin, after which he rolled his eyes and stepped closer to me. “Come shake my hand! In case we need to text.”

  I grasped his hand in mine without a second thought with almost as much force as I could muster, watching his face recoil in pain. Oh, that brought out a smile. The option to text him beeped in my interface, and so I was off.

  Mark didn’t even wait for the door to shut before he began speaking. “We should leave the other players be.”

  “Really? And here I thought you’d say the opposite.”

  I began walking around the streets, looking into the cages. They were either empty, or a low player sat in them. Nothing else so far.

  “I would, in normal circumstances. Don’t think it doesn’t pain me. But with how dangerous it sounds? I’d rather… choose the safer option.”

  I sighed. I knew he was right, at least a bit. But watching these players, depressed and hopeless, just made me wish to do anything but leave them be. “We could use them in the defense.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows. “These players? I’m sorry Shrimpie, but look at their level. They’ll barely be able to fight off the rock crabs you killed the first day. They’ll be a burden. Let’s look for Fink, try to come up with a plan, and get out of here.”

  Reluctantly, I agreed. I’d still need to think about it a little more, though. Wherever Fink was, he was seriously hard to find.

  With nothing better to do, I reluctantly opened my chat, doing my best to block out yesterday’s messages.

  Shrimpie: Hey guys. Umm, I don’t know what I said yesterday, but I’m sorry. How are preparations going?

  Dusk: Doing good. Townsfolk started helping us build a barricade. Bryga and Crudia are placing traps.

  Crudia: Don’t worry! And we love you too, Shrimpie!

  Bryga: You’re adorable when you’re drunk, hahahahaahahahaha.

  Talisha: That’s enough ‘ha’s’

  Bryga: What? He’s funny, okay? Anyway, find Fink yet? I let him know you’re looking for him.

  Oh, right. Bryga could text him.

  Shrimpie: Not yet, looking for him right now. Met an old friend that’s going to be helping me with getting him out.

  Dusk: Old friend? You can’t mean….

  Crudia: Who? Who is it? Did you make new friends already?

  Mark: It’s Martin the Marten. We met his guide too, it’s a eighteen year old that finds Shrimpie hot for some reason.

  Crudia: Of course she does! It means she has eyes!

  Talisha: God, another kid? I… should stop getting surprised at this point.

  Mark: Bryga, can you text Fink to describe his surroundings? We’re having a hard time finding him.

  Bryga: Of course, blue one. One sec.

  We stood in the silent street, waiting for Bryga. The goblins started getting up by now, whispering about getting another drink already.

  Bryga: He said he sees a weird building, and the cave only goes up.

  “Yeah, I can see that.” Mark said, pointing forward. Fink stood in his cage, looking in my direction.