A noob

As you make your way around the final roof high stack of books, you spy the intruder. It's a Dwarf clad in cheap iron armour, iron axe still tucked in their belt. Probably a warrior or something similar you guess, at this low level they all sort of look alike. He's looking the other way, well you guess it's a he, judging by the massive beard that's partly visible even from behind. You close the distance as quickly as you can hoping to catch him unaware, yet taking care to doge any of the clutter that may dislodge and reveal your arrival to the Dwarf. Damn this blasted carcass of yours is slow, it's like lumbering through molasses. The upside is once you get moving you're one hell of a formidable foe just because of your sheer weight advantage (Something to do with the physics of the world). You should have worn a helmet you vain fool, you think to yourself as you swing one of your massive fists at the back of the Dwarfs exposed head. The Dwarf goes flying into a nearby bookshelf under the of your blows, when you realise he's been stunned.

As he struggles to stand and draw his weapon you launch another lumbering charge at him. You register a look of panic on his face, it seems your first blow must have done a lot of damage. You glance at his health bar 26/50, you realise with pride that your sneak attack has taken out almost half his health. You let lose a primal roar, the grating noise of your gravelly voice echoing deafeningly through the confined space. The sounds merely adds to the Dwarfs horror as you come hurtling at him as fast as you can. He seems to have recovered enough to try and dodge the blow, your blow lands on the Dwarfs armour as he half succeeds in evading the blow intended for his head. Fortunately for you, your blow does connect, if only somewhat (Beats not hitting him at all, you suppose), unfortunately his armour takes a bite out of the damage. You realise that your initial advantage is beginning to slip away, and your opponent has at least two good knocks left in him at 21HP left and has rallied himself.

You launch a fresh attack, hoping to land a blow into his exposed head. The arrogance and vanity of some adventurers never ceases to amaze. Deciding to forgo the protection of a helmet or hood for the sake of “looking good” was a sure-fire way to end up dead in a dungeon. Though you had to admit, it was thoughtful of him to choose your dungeon of all places to learn a few hard truths. As your next blow is about to bury itself into his bearded chin he slams his now freed axe into your midriff. The sudden pain from the blow causes you to flinch away, instinctively trying to shield yourself from the pain. Your commitment to the attack falters for a moment, enough for your blow to glance off of the Dwarf's breastplate once more. Your health is unaffected, fortunately for you he can't say the same. He's now down to 16 HP and you're beginning to feel elation at your impending victory, its so close you can already taste it; it will have been worth feeling the bite of the axe if it means you can crush him.

You mean to end this fight and for that matter this Dwarf, even if he re-spawns and kills you later you will be remembered by him as being the one tutorial monster that bested him. You charge at him, gaining valuable momentum even at your slow speed. You hope the momentum will suffice to trigger a knock down effect, and leave him helpless as you rain blows down upon him. You let your deep reserves of pent up rage, what feels like the sum total aeons of suffering channel through you driving you at the Dwarf, hoping it will lend you the power and speed you need to win. For a brief moment he is the embodiment of everything you hate. Even through the haze of rage, you realise the Dwarf's equipped an alchemical bomb and if his panicked fumbling is anything to go by he skipped the “How to” notification too. You crack a smile as your blow connects with his exposed head, a primal rush of satisfaction mixes with your rage as victory awaits you. The Dwarf's slumped against the bookshelf in front of you, clearly stunned, you move towards him, ready to inflict a barrage of blows upon him.

*KABOOM!*

Your head is spinning, the air is still filled with the blue and silver particles from the alchemical bomb. Shit, you've ended upon your back, you realise as the air begins to clear a little. Damn it, you curse your self as your previous rage dissipates, giving way to annoyance. You've blown it, by the time you get upright and back into the fight that arrogant tosser of a Dwarf will have another alchemical bomb ready and waiting for you. From past experience you know there is no way you can survive two of those, not after having had one explode under your feet. Your UI has a flashing health bar as you pull it up to check the damage. You're down to 10 points of health, defiantly not in any condition to win a fight. Speaking of… you realise your not dead yet. Then in the corner of your UI you spot a flashing notification, its a level up… but how the hell did that happen you wonder. You realise you must have won, but where was the body. The Dwarf shouldn't have re-spawned yet, so there should be a corpse somewhere. After a long moment you realise that what you're resting upon isn't a pile of books, its far too hairy and squishy. So that’s how you won, the poor fool had been hoisted by his own petard.

At that moment a realisation dawns upon you, you're an imbecile for having charged your opponent at all. You let rage get in the way of good judgement and proper tactical planning. But you did win, that's something. Maybe, you tell yourself, just maybe its time to start using your wealth of knowledge and your rather sharp mind to your advantage, rather than nearly ending up as noob grinder meat once more. Maybe try out some actual tactics and strategy, maybe...

Your thoughts of future endeavours are rather rudely interrupted, mostly because the rather soft corpse on which you've been resting is no longer quite as corpse-like as originally thought.

“Get the fuck off me, you fucking lardass!” Comes the muffled cry from somewhere beneath you.

You ponder for a moment, should you get off of the rather rude and somewhat squished Dwarf? He seems to be secure where he is (you wriggle yourself a little, you get a rather satisfying blubbering cry of pain from your new cushion), if he could harm you he presumably would have done so by now. The distinct lack of sharp objects being struck into your ass seems to support this hypothesis.

Well, might as well level up if he's not going anywhere you decide. Seeing as by all rights he should be busy re-spawning somewhere, rather than spouting obscenities into your backside at this very moment, something is very wrong. You defiantly wouldn't mind the reassurance of a full health bar and possibly some extra abilities (You can't remember with certainty what happens when you get to level 3, its been so long, and when you have, you've been reset a minute later). You open your display, ignoring the cursing dwarf upon whom you're still firmly seated. Damn you wish you could fart, just this once. You consider it a disgusting biological creatures trait that you're incapable of, but it might be useful right now if you could as it would serve to shut that blasted Dwarf up, if only for a minute or two.

*Pop*

Decayed Dwarven Golem
Magical Construct of Dwarven Origin.

Stats
Level: 2-3
HP: 25-45
Stamina: 10-15
Mana: 1-2
Melee Attack: 10-15
Ranged Attack: 00
Magic Damage Resistance: 0%
Physical Damage Resistance: 99%

Skills
N/A

Abilities
Dwarven Construct: Almost invulnerable to physical damage.
Animated Earth: Immunity to fire and poisons.
Rune Bound Soul: Extremely to magic; all magic damage does triple damage.
Relentless: Stamina never drains.

*Pop*

Well, its not brilliant a new Ability would have been nice, but the extra hitting power and hitpoints are good enough you suppose. It should let you survive a few more knocks to the noggin. As you close the display you realise the Dwarfs changed his tone and is now pleading with you.

“Please, please just get off me or let me surrender”. He whines, still muffled under what may well be quarter of a tonne of rather unimpressed Golem.

“Surrender? What on Alluvia would possess me to let you surrender, you'd just try to kill me again the moment I release you”.

Your voice sounds as harsh as ever as you struggle a little to make the correct sounds for the Common tongue. Though you do not trust this strange development, you are a little curious as to what the hapless Dwarf is bleating on about. Maybe he really is incapacitated, you're more than a little perplexed by all this.

“What the fuck are you on about!? I can't even access my inventory, it says I can't do that while in surrender mode.” Mumbles the now confused sounding Dwarf, a slight hint of panic entering his voice.

Huh? Now you are out-rightly confused. Normally adventurers just die and then respawn, usually followed rather promptly by a lot of pain for you as they extract their . A new patch, or maybe a bug you muse. Then again, it could always be a trap. You realise that you cannot sit here all day as much as you'd originally have liked to, other than some initial amusement, squishing this bearded barnacle really isn't very exciting or vengeful. Besides your new book is out of reach from this position and you have no interest on re-reading this section of the Library. Somehow “Legal Codex’s and Philosophical Theories: A Post-Philosophical Interpretation of Societies and their Legal Systems in Alluvia” really isn't as invigorating a read as one might assume. Even more so as its 432 volumes long and written in sixteen different languages.

“Fine, I shall accept your surrender” You mutter, the words almost lost in the grating sound of your mouth moving.

He lets out a satisfying squeal of pain as you purposely shift your full weight onto him before standing up.

As he's about to stand up you grab him by this beard and yank him to his feet. You might as well keep him within punching distance if he's about to double cross you. You eye up the Dwarf as he slowly wobbles on his feet, weary of the fact that you have a hold of his beard and that he screamed like a girl when you yanked on his beard. His armour is bent, his face bloodied, and his hair matted with what is presumably more blood. Even in the candle light of the catacombs, he still looks bad enough that he'd have have fit right in at a field hospital during a grand tourney or a siege, he was thoroughly broken.

“Common man, just let me surrender so I can leave already!” Begs the increasingly irritating Dwarf, his voice seemingly going even higher than you thought possible as he begins to panic.

You realise there must be an in-game mechanism of some sort causing this situation, otherwise the Dwarf would have certainly used the alchemical bomb that he clearly still has equipped on his belt. As you scroll through several menus you realise that you can access the subdued Dwarfs inventory. Is it worth the risk to look though it while he's still alive you ask yourself? You have him by the beard hairs, it is about as compromising a position a Dwarf can find himself in, short of being caught with his pants down, but still… something feels off, though maybe its just the excitement of victory waning but you're feeling a little paranoid about the whole situation.