The Book of Dungeons - A weak to strong litRPG epic

The prone figure had only a sliver of health and debuffs called Hobbled, Poisoned, Exhausted, and Dehydrated. The nameplate revealed she was a level 19 orc huntress named Yula. She had somehow braided living vines into her hair—their tiny leaves provided the camouflaging effect of a ghillie suit. Her yellow-green skin complemented the camouflage, and one could say her complexion looked sallow if it didn’t carry connotations of poor health. Aside from her debuffs, she appeared very strong. Beneath the orc’s braided locks, pointed canines, sharp jaw, and high cheekbones appeared. Considering her alien appearance, she seemed quite attractive in a punky-sort of way.

Yula stirred when we approached and said nothing as Charitybelle put her waterskin to the orc’s lips. After drinking, Yula weakly held her hand to our questions while ingesting more liquid. She had several surface wounds, but the injury to one of her legs looked critical. We could hear the shushing sound of the river nearby, so she must have been too injured to travel even a short distance to quench her thirst.

With no warning, Charitybelle cast Rejuvenate and Restore on her.

Fabulosa gripped her weapons.

When the Dehydration debuff disappeared, Yula’s mana returned enough for her to cast a Cure Greater Poison spell on herself. The Poison and Hobbled debuffs disappeared, and the orc’s stiffened posture relaxed.

Healing someone over 10 levels above us seemed quite a gamble—but squandering the chance to make an ally was foolish and rude, so I followed Charitybelle’s example by offering cooked foodstuffs from my inventory.

The orc’s unreadable face barely acknowledged us. At last, she nodded before eating one.

Her lack of gratitude surprised me.

After drinking more water, the huntress spoke, and it surprised me she spoke the common tongue. “Wizout water, I would have fed ze animals.”

Yula enunciated without inflection or gratitude. She wasn’t imperious or callous but reflected on her near-death as a matter of fact. The orc spoke slowly with an air of composure, a pace that struck me as strong—as if nothing would rush her to the end of a sentence.

I liked how Yula switched her Ws like Vs—so “werewolf” became “verevolf.” She pronounced her L’s—with the back of her tongue instead of the front.

Yula sat up with effort and bowed her head. “To you, I owe my life. I am Yula.”

We introduced ourselves, and I posed the first question. “What happened to you?”

It seemed an obvious icebreaker since Yula looked at home in the wilderness. Leather armor covered her from head to toe. The only metalwork reinforced her kit with clasps, hooks, and buckles. Her headpiece featured a rear-facing design of two dark eyes and a mouth. It wasn’t a helmet or a mask but a backward false face. Perhaps it deterred predators who attacked their prey from behind.

“I was ambush by goblins. Great Healer Charitybelle, I must know. You want Yula as slave, yes?”

All three of us shook our heads and waved our hands, disabusing her of the notion.

“Ah! Zees ees good! Always wiz ze slaves, the green devils. Zey want me for mines. Yula ees for outdoors, not for deegging een dirt.”

The orc gulped another draught of water. “Eef not slave, why save me? Humans at Fort Krek must fight orcs.”

The three of us exchanged awkward looks. We learned a little about the orc and human fighting from visiting trainers in Belden’s military academy, but we didn’t know if the conflict remained active.

Yula furrowed her brow and clarified in more straightforward terms. “I am orc. You are human. You must be outcast, yes?”

Charitybelle gestured downstream. “Oh, no. We aren’t running from anyone, if that’s what you mean. We’re thinking of establishing a hunting lodge.” She didn’t launch into her wish list of castles and economic empires—which was just as well. This huntress might not receive news of encroaching settlements with Charitybelle’s level of enthusiasm.

“Always building, you humans. Dwarves build down—humans build up.”

Her observations amused me, but her expression displayed not a hint of humor. When she looked ready to stand, I offered a helping hand.

Yula recoiled and considered my gesture with caution.

“Let me help you up.” I felt foolish since she looked twice as strong.

Yula eventually accepted my grasp.

I pulled and helped her stand. The ritual seemed new to her, and she studied my face to see if she acted as expected.

I nodded to set her at ease.

“I am walking again. Zank you, Healer Charitybelle! May you die quickly.” She bowed with reverence to my girlfriend, whose brows furrowed at the dubious blessing.

To me, the unspoken topic regarded our imminent safety. “Are we okay here? Do we need to leave?” I gestured down the river banks toward the patrol path along the river.

“Goblin only surfaces at night and zees ees not zeir land. Green devils belong inside hill.”

The orc paused and regarded the patrol path more carefully. “Ees strange zey walk so close to reever. Green devils sink een water. Cannot sweem.” She made a swimming motion to emphasize her point.

Fabulosa shifted her weight with impatience. It still wasn’t clear if we occupied hostile territory, and standing around and talking seemed foolhardy. “Are these your hunting grounds?”

Yula waved a dismissive hand to the distant Bluepeaks. “Stream sweeps me here. I lose footing crossing reever at night. Ees foolish, but was tracking moose. Eet was bad luck goblins see me. But Yula ees strong, like bugbear. She survive ambush.”

Fabulosa nodded. “You fixin’ to head back north?”

“I will hunt green devils, unless eet muddies your water.”

Fabulosa offered her hand without looking at us for consent or agreement. “Tracking goblins suits us if you’re looking for allies.”

Charitybelle and I nodded in affirmation. It might be the best way to recon the area. Yula wasn’t familiar with this terrain but provided an excellent mentor for wilderness skills.

“I would welcome comrades.” Yula ignored Fabulosa’s extended hand, grabbed her shoulders, and gave her a hard shake.

Charitybelle and I smiled as Fabulosa’s eyes grew wide in alarm. But Yula’s firm grip kept Fabulosa from losing balance on the slippery embankment.

We followed Yula along the river trail with nervous grins. As we walked, she gave us her story, describing being at odds with the orc high council and its newly appointed emperor. The ambitious emperor persecuted his rivals, including Yula’s clan, and she fled her homeland to escape that status of an untouchable. She loved her people but would work to undermine the emperor’s authority whenever possible.

Yula ended her tale with the declaration. “Checking leader power was once orc way. Eenstead of crushing elf and human like bug, orc fight orc. Yula is alone and far from her mountain—but free.”

I looked toward the riverbank for more signs of passage. “How often do orcs travel this far south?”

Yula shook her head but uttered no elaboration, making it seem we were relatively safe from orcs and goblins.

Charitybelle nervously smiled while giving Yula her sales pitch about Hawkhurst. “Would you be opposed to a human settlement a few hours south? Would you mind if we made a trade route to Fort Krek?”

Yula thought for a while before answering—a pause prefixed all her responses. The break in conversation grew so long that, for a moment, it wasn’t clear if the orc understood Charitybelle’s question.

“Human veellage shames emperor. Poot entire Redbone Clan in uproar! Yula will help een zees.” She smashed her fist to an open palm. “Peaceful trade ees good bait.”

Charitybelle’s eyes widened and searched me for signs of concern. I patted her back to comfort her. Yula’s advice and friendship would be invaluable.

We gave her a brief account of our wilderness adventures, starting from the flatboat and through the valley between the Bluepeaks and Highwall mountains.

Yula seemed unimpressed by our battles, as if we described what we ate for breakfast. She changed the subject by gesturing to Charitybelle. “Ees Great Healer Charitybelle your woman?”

Charitybelle blushed, then flashed me a smile.

I grinned and nodded.

“She ees beautiful—has good skull. Would make fine trophy.”

Fabulosa guffawed as Charitybelle returned a nervous grin to the orc. I couldn’t help but smile, as it comforted me to hear Fabulosa laugh again, but our collective response to Yula’s compliment seemed to puzzle the huntress.

Miles upstream, the goblin trail veered away from the river and uphill into the trees. From time to time, Yula stopped to inspect the ground. She showed us marks in the underbrush and answered our questions about tracking. The canopy of trees prevented any sense of where we were, but my interface map showed us climbing the base of a hill south of Iremont.

Yula assured us we were close to goblins, pinpointing their hideout with mathematics, not tracking. After learning the cairn at Hawkhurst Rock lay a few hours away, she reasoned goblins only ventured far enough to return to their cave by sunrise—a half-a-day journey at most. Since goblins traveled at night, the cairn rested only six hours from their den.

“We attack een morning, when green devil sleep.”

When we set up camp for the evening, I threw the rope to the Dark Room, but the magic room did not impress her.

Yula’s expression conveyed disapproval over the portable sleeping quarters. “I weell sleep een woods.”

Yula surprised us again by building a fire.

Fabulosa hesitantly helped with gathering kindling. “Isn’t it dangerous to start campfires in goblin territory?”

The huntress didn’t look up from her work. “Green devils do not smell so good on surface.”

Yula played Prometheus, showing us how to build a proper campfire. She hollowed out a firepit in the ground, digging a short ventilation tunnel at its bottom. The feeder tunnel brought fresh air, making the fire hotter and producing less smoke and smell. At night, the earthen cavity concealed the flames.

We learned talax ram was edible and tasted like cooked mutton. Yula supplied boiled roots, herbs, nuts, and vegetables, making a flavor so strong it eclipsed the gamey meat. Before I drifted to sleep, I checked my survival skill and saw that it had risen to rank 8—a fitting end to a productive day.

Before the sun rose, we dropped the rope and slipped outside into a light rain. We impressed Yula by waking up before dawn. None of us admitted we used our interface alarms, for it wasn’t clear if she knew the difference between players and NPCs. After leftovers for breakfast, we set our sights on finding “green devils.”

We made our way up the hill, following the goblin trail until it crisscrossed other paths. I didn’t know if the drizzle of rain spoiled our tracking efforts, but Yula’s frequent cast of Vegetable Communion kept us in the right direction and showed no signs of faltering.

“Zere are gobleens here. We close to cave.”

Routes snaked in every direction, but we found a converging path, passing piles of earth, broken mining tools, and rotten sacks. We also found a row of emaciated dwarven corpses. It reminded us of whose territory we traveled. The goblins had discarded their workforce like spent garbage.

Yula seemed less shaken than my fellow players. “Zees ees why we hunt green devil.”

When the trail led to a hole in the mountain, my attitude toward goblins became KOS—kill on sight.