Polynya

INFAMY: 38 Players killed

HP: 869/869

HP recovery rate: 2% per minute

ATK: 133 +51

DEF: 114 +30

Attributes

STRENGTH: 10

WILL: 4

DEXTERITY: 7

MIND: 4

SPEED: 5

I hear voices and mentally swipe away the interface. There will be time to pat myself on the back later.

(^_^)

Here they come.

The three orcs chortle as they make their way around the bend. They’re merchants, hopefully Player Characters, and if I’m ever going to get some loot and attribute points the old-fashioned way, it’ll be by killing these three.

I tighten my grip on the ledge, pull my knees up, and press the balls of my feet into the rock face. The red outlines of their bodies appear on my vision pane even though I can’t officially see them yet.

If I time it just right …

Almost there …

Now!

I latch onto the cliff’s edge and do something I would never be able to do in real life – bounce my feet off the rock face and use all my power to backflip up to the mountainside pass.

“Hey!”

I grab the first orc by the front of his chest plate and toss the slack-jawed bastard off the escarpment.

Instakill!

+1 Infamy!

A Player Character. Yes!

My sword comes out, as do the swords of the two other orc merchants. Their levels and anonymous handles appear next to their names.

Two level sevens? Damn.

“You’re going to pay for that!” the first orc seethes. A green icon over his head flashes.

An NPC.

The other has a blue icon.

Another Player Character, hell yes.

“Some good that shitty sword will do!” he screams.

I grin at him. If you only knew …

All avatars start in Unigaea with a legendary weapon that needs upgrading. This “diamond in the rough” approach gives new players something to immediately see to. Either sell the weapon for instant funds, or get it repaired and reforged. Hell, some even learn to reforge it themselves.

I’ve done neither.

I turn my sword over in my hand, waiting for one of the orcs to come forward. My legendary weapon was once a full-fledged buster sword, but the blade has since splintered into three distinct peaks. It’s still large – about as long as a skateboard – and sharp as hell too, but the blade’s odd form has taken many an enemy off guard.

Much to my advantage.

“You’re dead!” The NPC orc charges me and brings his smaller sword up to meet mine.

Our weapons clink together and I quickly overpower him, using my leg to sweep his feet out from beneath him. The other orc merchant attacks as his counterpart rolls away, spraying dust into the air on his approach.

“I’ll kill you!” the Player Character shouts. He’s much better with his sword than the NPC; still, I manage to get in a brushing swipe that connects with his shoulder.

-145 HP!

Thick ichor spritzes from his wound. He screams like a sissy and disappears in a flash.

I stupidly turn to figure out where he went and my vision pane flashes.

A rogue orc?

While my armor protects me from the NPC orc’s stab, I do receive some blunt damage. The other orc comes in for another swing; his blade lands perfectly in one of the valleys of my splintered sword.

This was why I hadn’t had my buster sword reforged.

The NPC orc growls, presses his weight forward, seethes, and tries to free his sword from the groove in my blade. I twist my wrist and grin at my unsightly assailant. He pushes his weight forward again, and I reward his efforts with a boot to the chest that sends him straight to the ground.

I come down hard with my three-pronged, splintered sword, tearing through his cheap leather armor and piercing his lung. I twist the blade, he cries out in pain, and I yank it out, arcing the air with blood.

-286 HP! Instakill!

I take a step back to catch my breath.

Wham!

The next sound I hear is my body hitting the ground.

(^_^)

My head stops spinning moments later and I find the rogue orc standing over me with his sword at my throat.

His face is covered in blotches, his teeth misshapen, pointy, and yellow. The other trait that defines him – aside from his poorly armored man tits – is his festering stink, one part sulfuric urine and two parts Limburger cheese.

I don’t know why a Player Character would want to play as a rancid orc, and I really don’t care.

Spit flies at my face as he shouts, “I wanted you to watch me kill you. This is what thieves get! This is what Player Killers deserve!”

I keep my eyes trained on him as I slowly pat my hand against the soil, desperate for the hilt of my weapon.

The orc kicks my Splintered Sword away. “Your broken-ass sword won’t do you any good now!”

He presses the tip of his blade into my Adam’s apple and snarls.

“Do it then,” I grit. “End this.”

“If you die, you have to start over completely. Level one,” he reminds me with a sneer. “You’ll lose your busted-ass sword too.”