---

 

The Green slime stopped in its tracks 40 feet away from us. Not budging a single bit.

I immediately drew my longsword and moved 5 feet to the right, then 5 feet forward, moving around Fahkir. As I mentally "readied" myself, my whole body aside from my head stopped.

 

"Ah fock I think this world is turn-based!"

 

The green slime ate up turf and daisies as it catapulted itself 20 feet towards us. As soon as it landed, it ceased movement.

 

"That explains the numbers, they're our initiative rolls. Tah'Styr got fucked didn't he-SHE?"

 

Fahkir Unsheathed her pick, and shield, then moved 5 feet to the left covering the stunned Tah'Styr. She readied her pick on her shoulder, and positioned her shield.

It now was presumably Tah'Styr's turn, but for six whole seconds that felt like 6 minutes, she did nothing but stand there. It turns out when you roll a Nat 1, crazy shit happens. Now I wonder what happens when I roll a Nat 20. -Fock there was probably a bonus for critting, focking shit balls gawd damnit!-

---

 

 

Finally feeling my limbs gain freedom, I quickly moved forward towards the green slime. The 20 feet being taken with little effort. I raised my blade, and then brought it screaming down towards the blob...

 

...And whiffed the strike. -Are you focking kidding me?!-

 

The Green menace, finally within reach of a tasty morsel, lunged towards my face, presumably to suffocate me...

 

...I managed to divert the murder-blob away from me.

 

"Hang on. I'm gunna help!"

 

Fahkir Scuttled 20 feet, ending up to my left and within reach of our enemy. She swung her pick at the bastard...

 

...And nearly clipped the gooey bastard. -Focking RNGeus!-

 

Six seconds went by with no other activity. For all that it was worth, I glared at the emerald sphere.

---

 

 

This time I Swear if that cheeky bastard isn't hit by my blade I'll rage quit!. Swing and...

 

...HIT! Fock Yeah! My blade cleaved through the membrane, split the core in half, exited out the back, and left a neatly bisected jelly puddle in its wake.

Instead of freezing up like I have been, Fahkir unfroze, and from behind us, I could hear Tah'Styr collapse and start to curse.

---

 

 

 

Somewhere trumpets blared celebrating our hard-fought victory; again, I can't say from where, so I’ll say it's from my own god damned head.

Fahkir relaxed her stance and leaned on her Tower shield, panting a bit. Surprisingly she wasn't hit by any of the green liquid from the slime, and even more surprising, from the sizzling fumes, it smelled kind of like soap. A very cat-urine smelling soap, but soap nonetheless. I still wiped my blade on the grass just in case it is a bit too caustic for steel. I sheath the sword, and with Fahkir by my side, we wander back to where Tah'Styr was beating poor innocent daisies while shaking a verbal stick at god. Along the way, I retighten the straps on my armor, and Fahkir picks up her discarded helmet.

We stop behind the kneeling form of our Tiefling Friend; our silhouettes blotting out the sun, and almost encasing her crimson figure in shadows. Almost, because Fahkir is still a squat bitch.

Probably noticing the reduced light she turned her head up, and towards us; getting a good view of a dwarf attempting to get a good fit with her helm, and a smug predatory grin on a certain woody elf.

 

“I did say that we should go seek civilization BEFORE we continue with our talks about focking, Miss Crit fail."

 

"Oh shutthefuckup! y-you pencil-dicked-limp-wristed-sister-fucking-hillbilly-twink-lookin'-asshole! We ALL know that was some pure bullshit RNG. I could only breathe! Do you know what it is like to not be able to fucking blink, or-or even be unable to prevent yourself from drooling?!?..."

 

I visibly winced at her trash-talk, but I hesitated to return the verbal "abuse" as she did not stop. I became pensive as I noticed her eyes start to get more, and more watery as she continued her tirade. Her voice started to get more slurred and incoherent as she fought to hold back what was welling up inside.

I wouldn't call myself dense to the emotions in a room, nor would I call myself an empath; but I've known Darren for half a decade, and it was fairly easy to tell that from the brief period of time being completely, and totally, vulnerable, she was traumatized.

VR combat, while not being 100% realistic; is still violent, and realistic enough that it has made many gamers nowadays be desensitized to violence. Especially game franchises such as Battlefield and COD that are so detailed that the military has actually used them to help train soldiers. To great success, even.

Violence was not the problem.

No, what was more than likely, probably, was the lack of control. Chris, being an ACTUAL soldier, has experience countless times of being in situations where his paranoia was rampant and his control nonexistent. I worked the grave shift at a grocery store in the poor section in my city; It doesn't sound like a warzone, however after several years of being denied advancement, and lack of any other better paying job for someone with a record; albeit a misdemeanor, and for possession of pot of all things; It wasn't hard to feel powerless. It's honestly why I went into the deep end for gaming.

Darren wasn't like us. Sure, his body weight, and hobby, affected his life to the point of being ostracized; but he made up for it by manipulating others to get them to dance around his finger. Funny how this system summed it up quite adequately by calling him a charlatan. He truly was wearing a mask. And that mask was crumbling.

 

Seeing her attempting to continue ranting on, and on, through sobs and heaving breaths. Something in me clicked.

She was surprised as I sprung towards her. I pulled her into an embrace, giving a reassuring squeeze as I held the back of her head against my shoulder. The 8" difference in height meant that when her strength finally gave out her full weight was now supported on my shoulders as she leaned into it, still shuddering with sobs.

I held her until the shuddering stopped, her own arms returning the squeeze. Tah'Styr's sobs turned into barely audible whimpers.

 

"Shhh... It's okay Tah'Styr, it’s okay. We can get through this. Fahkir and me will make sure that nothing bad will happen to you, okay? Ain't that right Fahkir?"

 

She waddled up to us and spread her stubby arms wide to embrace us with the full strength and hardness that comes with a dwarf in full platemail. Tah'Styr and I grunted as the plates squeezed us against each other like a vise.

 

"Sure is Onimous. Now, let's end this gay shit, and hit the road before more mobs come."

 

Tah’Styr and I let out embarrassed chuckles as we quickly escaped from each other's grasp.