The Rules: The Complete Series : A LitRPG Epic, page 73
Emma pulled her fist back to punch when there was a flapping of wings overhead, and a small, shining object came spinning down through the bars of the cage, smacking her on the head and falling onto Sam’s boot.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, looking around for the source of the attack.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you!” Barry crowed.
Looking down, Sam found what had been dropped and felt his good mood evaporate in an instant.
“That little feathered bastard!” he yelled, stooping and snatching the key from the tip of his boot.
When Emma saw what he was holding, she finally understood as well, and with a scream of anger, she whirled, slamming her fist into the side of the cage and finally wearing out its durability. With a massive splintering crack, the cage was blown apart, sending fragments of wood scattering throughout the area and making Barry take off from his perch atop the cage. The sense of elation at finally breaking free left nothing more than a sour taste in their mouths as they all glared up at the bird circling above.
“That bird is so dead when I get my hands on him,” Emma said darkly as she jumped from the wagon.
Sam took a half-step forward as well, his mind already trying to think up the myriad number of ways in which someone might be tortured, when another pop-up flashed before his eyes.
FEAT OF PERSEVERANCE!
Congratulations! You have performed your first Feat.
When faced with a seemingly impossible task, you never once gave up, fighting your way through to the end!
Reward: Legendary Title
TITLE GAINED!
Through your perseverance, you have gained a new Legendary title!
XP Legend
Effect: Permanent +1.5X XP gain
Sam dismissed the notification, staring at Emma in near-dumbfounded amazement.
“Did we just get something good?” he asked, almost disbelieving that he’d received something without any of the usual commentaries about what a moron he was.
“I think…we did?” Emma replied, sounding equally as shocked.
“Gordon, did you…?”
“Yes,” Gordon replied. “I, too, received a title for my perseverance. My experience gain has received a permanent boost by one and a half times.”
“Same here,” Sam replied.
Emma nodded along with him, confirming she’d received the same title.
“What the fuck?”
All three of them looked up to see Barry plummeting out of the sky, slamming into the ground, and lying there for several moments before getting back up. They were quick to surround him, not having forgotten what he’d put them through, especially with his final stunt of giving them the key when they were seconds away from breaking out.
“Hey, come on guys, there’s no need for anything, is there?” Barry asked, sounding distinctly nervous as they closed in on him. “I’ve already been cursed for leaving you all in there! My XP gain was halved for an entire month!”
Glad as Sam was to hear about the bird’s punishment, he wasn’t about to let him off that easily.
“Emma, you still got some of that rope?” he asked, a wide, feral grin spreading across his face.
“Oh, you bet!” Emma said, grabbing a length of rope and pulling it taut with a loud snap. “And I think our good friend Barry needs to learn a few lessons about fucking with people!”
***
“Let me down! I’m warning you! You won’t get away with this! I’ll shit in all your food for a month! You fucking bastards will…” Sam pulled a piece of string tightly around the bird’s beak, shutting him up and leaving him to thrash uselessly against the ropes which were keeping him bound.
“Ah, that’s much better,” Emma said, leaning back and letting out a sigh.
“That foul-beaked miscreant should learn a valuable lesson about loyalty to one’s companions,” Gordon said, eyeing the bird as well.
“Forget that moron,” Sam said, taking a seat as well. “Let’s just eat some of this horrible rehydrated stew and get some freaking sleep!”
He still spared a glance back at the bird and took immense pleasure in seeing him this way. Barry had been wrapped in ropes and strung up upside down from a small bush. They’d lit a fire beneath him, keeping it small enough so he wouldn’t die but hot enough to cause some serious discomfort. In addition, Emma had held him down while Sam had clipped his wings, shearing off the feathers that would help him fly.
It wasn’t like he was permanently taking away the bird’s flight, as feathers grew back, much like hair, but for at least a couple of weeks, the little bastard would be unable to be airborne for more than a few seconds, and none of them were planning on letting him hitch a ride. The little feathered bastard would spend the night strung up, then would have to walk until he could fly again. After the ordeal he’d put them through, Sam didn’t even feel the slightest bit of remorse for what he’d done, even if they had been rewarded for all their work.
“I am not looking forward to going into that swamp tomorrow,” Emma said, eyeing the border of the Creep Swamp.
“You and me both,” Sam said, reaching for the canteen of boiling water and pouring some into the two pouches of stew rations he’d had stored in his Soul Ring.
The stew would be truly subpar, but seeing as he hadn’t eaten in nearly two days, he was too hungry to even care.
“What do you think is inside there?” Emma asked as the two of them began shoveling down the dark-colored slop.
“Hopefully, just a straight path to this Zewstown,” Sam replied.
“You don’t think…” Emma began.
“That we’re going to be dealing with an entire pantheon of rip-off gods with horrible names?” Sam finished. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Yeah, same here,” she muttered, taking another bite and grimacing at the awful taste. “Where the hell did you buy this crap?” she asked, looking at the side of the packaging. “I’ve had dried stew rations before, and this has to be the worst I’ve ever tasted!”
“I honestly can’t remember,” he said, taking another bite. “But yeah, this is pretty disgusting.”
That being said, the two of them finished every last bite, disgusting or not.
11
“Do you smell that?” Emma asked as they entered the Creep Swamp.
“How could I not?” Sam replied, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
It was the rank stench of rotting vegetation, the one he associated with the few vegetables his mom would buy that would go bad in the fridge, only this was much worse. At least the fridge was cold and somewhat killed the smell. This place was positively steamy, the rank stench wafting up into the air and hanging there like a cloud, perfectly perched at nose-level to assure it would stay with them for as long as they were here.
“Why does it seem like, no matter where we go, we always end up in places that reek?” Emma asked, pinching her nose.
“Cause the Overlord is an asshole,” Sam replied. “I feel like our rules for the day pretty much gave that away.”
Both of them had received the same rule: no eating. Only an asshole of truly epic proportions would force them to starve after getting only a single meal in the past two days. Despite the horrible stew, Sam had been looking forward to eating something this morning, but the rule had put a quick stop to that. Now, they were heading into a reeking swamp with empty stomachs.
“How many monsters do you think we’ll run into?” Emma asked as they began heading down the winding path.
“I have no idea. But seeing as this doesn’t seem to be a Dungeon, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“That is unlikely,” Gordon said. “In places such as these, there are bound to be wild monsters.”
“Thanks for your endless optimism,” Sam deadpanned.
“Any time!” Gordon replied.
“Wait for me!” Barry screeched.
Turning back, Sam felt his bad mood vanish in an instant, as he watched the bird half-flapping, half-scampering after them, his body turned to one side as he tried to make his little bird feet move fast enough to keep up. It didn’t help that the ground underfoot wasn’t exactly firm, leaving the bird to continually need to pull himself out of shallow puddles and soft patches of mud.
“You know, if you wanted to keep up, you could always just fly,” Emma commented.
“Bitch! I’ll kill you!” Barry screeched.
“Why don’t you fly on over and say that to my face,” she retorted.
“Ha! What an excellent retort,” Gordon said. “A marvelous insult, indeed!”
“Gosh, dog, you really know how to turn something really fun into something not fun at all,” Sam muttered, turning back to the path ahead.
“Don’t listen to him,” Emma said, almost cooing to the dog as she scratched him behind the ears. “You’re the best dog around, aren’t you, Gordon?”
Gordon’s eyes narrowed in pleasure and his tail began sweeping back and forth vigorously as Emma, once again, paid him far too much attention. Sam had no idea why the dog put up with this or how he wasn’t insulted with how Emma spoke to him sometimes. It was the strangest dichotomy between Gordon the companion, and Gordon the dog. He was smarter than any of the people here, yet there were so many characteristics that were distinctly dog-like. For example, he loved to play fetch, and apparently liked being talked to like a baby while getting his head scratched.
As much as he was sure some people might enjoy that – Sam had met some true weirdos back home – he was definitely not one of them.
“So, what do you think this Zewstown will be like?” Emma asked.
“Probably full of crazy cult nutjobs,” he replied. “I mean, if you’re nuts enough to get involved in a cult in the first place, especially if that cult is the type to murder people, you’ve gotta be pretty cracked in the head.”
A loud snapping sound came from up ahead, causing their entire group to jump. The fog in this place was so thick that it was hard to see anything for more than a few feet in any direction, but it seemed to be clearing up a bit ahead. Additionally, Sam was pretty sure he could now hear the distinct sound of rushing water.
Now on guard, their group moved forward, all bunched together and prepared for the fight they were sure to be facing up ahead. However, as the mists cleared, Sam saw something completely unexpected. A long wooden bridge spanned a massive chasm that spread some fifty feet across. And, on the other side, he could clearly see a sign that read Zewstown 2. He wasn’t sure how things worked in this trope-filled world, but if he was reading the sign right, the border of Zewstown should only be two miles away.
“Wow, that was easier than I thought,” Sam said, though he was still on guard.
You were always attacked when your guard was lowered, and he wasn’t about to take that risk.
“I can’t see anyone around,” Emma commented as they headed for the bridge. “Where do you think that snapping sound came from?”
“No idea,” he replied, his eyes sweeping their surroundings for any signs of danger.
The fog had pretty much cleared up, as had the smell. Sam also could see a single tree nearby, as all the vegetation had pretty much cleared by now, leaving just an open, dry expanse between them and the bridge. Still, expecting trouble where none was apparent was a good way to keep yourself alive in Somerset. Sure, some might call you paranoid, but he would rather be paranoid and alive than going to party with zombies on the beach, pretending not to see them and being stupid enough to think he wouldn’t be killed.
It was sort of like a five-year-old that covered their eyes and thought they’d gained the power of invisibility. Just because they didn’t see you, didn’t mean you couldn’t see them.
“Would you look at that?” Emma said, leaning over the edge of the chasm and staring down.
“I’d really rather not,” Sam said, stepping back and trying to stop his head from spinning.
The drop must have been at least six to eight-hundred feet down, at the bottom of which wound a fast-flowing stream. It wouldn’t be a fantasy trope if you didn’t have to cross a rickety bridge over a gorge, after all.
“You think that bridge will hold us?” Emma asked, looking to the swinging wooden structure.
“Depends on the trope,” Sam replied. “It’ll probably hold for the first few people, but whoever goes last will likely have a plank crack right under their foot and only just manage to pull themselves up. Or the bridge will begin to collapse as soon as they step onto it, forcing them to run the entire way, only just making it as the entire thing falls apart.”
“Wow. You really know your tropes well,” Emma said.
“Well, not to brag, but I was majoring in Fantasy Tropes in college.”
“What the hell kind of school did you go to?” Emma asked with a snort of laughter.
“The type where people protest a lot for no apparent reason,” Sam replied. “If people are going to protest the fucking sun, then having an entire major dedicated to fantasy tropes isn’t too far out there.”
“What was your real major?” she asked as they approached the bridge.
“Dragon slaying,” Sam replied. “My buddy Keith and I were going to become famous and rich one day.”
“No, seriously,” Emma said, trying to hide her smile.
“I was undecided, like pretty much every person who goes to college with no solid plan of action. My buddy, Greg, on the other hand…Well, he was going places.”
Before Emma could ask more, he decided to change the subject. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought Greg up once again, but seeing as he had nothing to do with their current task at hand, it was easy to dismiss him from his mind.
“So, the question now is who goes last,” Sam said as he stared across the creaking bridge.
He, Emma, and Gordon all shared a look, then collectively turned back to the bird, who was hobbling toward them and looking as though he would drop at any second.
“It’s decided, then,” Sam said. “Barry goes last.”
“What?” Barry asked, looking up toward the rickety bridge. He quickly relaxed. “Fine by me.”
He was light, so he was confident he’d be fine. Sam knew fantasy tropes, though, and no matter how light the bird was, there was a single, rickety plank that would crack underfoot.
“Guess I’ll go first,” he said, taking the first step forward, leaving the solid and safe ground behind and stepping onto the bridge from hell.
It immediately began to sway as he walked, the planks creaking ominously underfoot and the wind picking up the further out he went. The bridge dipped toward the middle, turning back into an incline as it passed the halfway point. Right now, Sam was doing everything he could to make the bridge move as little as possible. Wind whipped around him, sending the rickety bridge swaying and making Sam’s fists tighten on the ropes as he clutched on for dear life.
He wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, but walking over a chasm through a rickety bridge wasn’t exactly conducive to great mental health. Even the most fearless of idiots would still be afraid of this bridge, especially with how much it seemed to move, despite his minimal movement to either side. It was as though each step caused the bridge to bounce and sway way more than it should, but having already committed to the course, Sam just plowed onward.
He’d nearly reached the midway point when the bridge swung ominously to one side, and Sam let out a yelp as he grabbed onto the ropes with all his might. The ground went out from under him as something pulled the rickety structure more and more. His feet were soon dangling over the abyss, and had he not needed every ounce of air in his lungs, he’d probably have screamed like one of those guys in a low-budget horror movie.
Why the hell does my brain always go to weird places when I’m about to die? Sam thought as the bridge suddenly jerked back, sending him crashing to the ground and causing his hands to jerk free of the ropes.
The bridge continued to sway as he looked further down to the very center of the bridge. Now that he wasn’t about to fall to his death, it became very obvious as to what had caused the sudden jerk to one side. At the center of the bridge stood a massive creature with green-gray skin and a lot of hair. Its face was a mash of gross features, including a massive underbite, misaligned yellow teeth, small beady eyes, a squashed nose, and a small thatch of green hair on its ugly head. In one hand, it carried a large club, while the other scratched at its protruding potbelly. Thankfully, the creature had on a loincloth, and before Sam even used his Inspect skill, he could already guess what this thing was.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!”
12
But, of course, there was no one around to kid, that much was obvious, as the creature’s information popped up before his eyes.
BRIDGE TROLL
Name: Bonk
Gender: Unknown
Class: Stench-Stonehead-Warrior
Level: 28 - HP: 820/820 - MP: 0/0 - STA: 590/590
Status: Hungry
Greatest Threat: Club Strike
Highest Attribute: Strength (166)
Bridge Trolls are a sub-race of the Troll race. They are generally quite stupid and cannibalistic. They can hardly be considered one of the intelligent races and act more like monsters than anything else.
Bridge Trolls receive bonuses to Strength with each level; however, they suffer penalties to Intelligence and Wisdom.
“A fucking bridge troll,” Sam groaned. “This is some next-level shit.”
“Stop, human,” the troll called out in his booming voice. “I want to eat you!”
What kind of moron would stop to be eaten? Sam thought.
“Oh, no, don’t eat me,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice. “My brother is coming after me, and he’s much bigger and tastier than I.”
