Nullform #1: RealRPG Series полностью

Three of them wore red. Three well-muscled thugs, practically identical. They were dressed identically, too. Vests. Boots. Gloves that looked stiff and thick. Protective pads on their knees, elbows, and shins. On top of their vests, they wore what looked like football pads, massive and sturdy. The visors on their motorcycle helmets were open, and they each had a long club on their belt. Three long, thin steel spikes stuck out of each club. One of the men’s belt bags had a cable poking out of it. I saw each of their belts also held a long, thick awl with a plastic handle. Their jacket sleeves and shoulder pads were covered in carefully-painted yellow flames. They look good... This little goblin, fresh out of the swamp, is impressed, Bwana! Might the goblin touch this beauty with his dirty hands?

The men had the experienced, self-confident air of veterans who had been through a lot.

Two of them were women. Slender... No... not just slender. They were athletic and muscular, clearly tough. I could see it in their behavior, their stance, the way they looked around. This caught my eye — they acted differently from most women I’d seen. They stood out sharply from the brutal men full of grim adrenaline. Both women were wearing blue, but their equipment was much lighter. They had small shoulder pads instead of the bulky football pads the men wore. Plastic helmets covered their heads, and bright yellow scarves were wrapped around their necks. Metal gleamed on the knuckles of the gloves they wore. Some kind of weapons were strapped to their backs. Those look like... rifles? Or are they something else?

I stood straight, trying my hardest not to move.

This worthless goblin has no right to look at orc and halfling weapons, Bwana.The cowardly goblin won’t raise his eyes again...

But the goblins did raise their eyes, and didn’t even try to hide it. Everyone around me was looking at these new arrivals — well, everyone who wasn’t asleep. Although even those were starting to open their eyes and look over, inspecting these people who seemed to have come here from another world. A cleaner and more pleasant world.

“Now that’s what I call a higher stage of evolution,” I muttered mostly to myself. But the weak-looking man to my right overheard me.

“Huh?”

“Nothing...”

“If only I could get my hands on one of those chicks for four hours or so...” The zombie to my left croaked dreamily.

Four hours?Dude. Four minutes would be more than enough for you. His eyes gleamed hungrily, and he was practically drooling as his skinny hips writhed furiously on the bench.

Those weapons...

I could see them clearly — they were right in front of me. But I still couldn’t figure out what they were. There didn’t seem to be a barrel, but I could definitely see the rudimentary stock. The other end of the weapon... Damn... It looked like the girls were armed with plain old wooden boards. Like someone had cut wood into the shape of a rifle, then attached a shoulder strap. Like a toy weapon. There was no way I was going to wrap my head around them right then, so I took a look at the last member of their group. The rest of his squad stood flanking him while he surveyed the goblin and orc rabble gathered at intersection 17 with an air of false benevolence, hands clasped behind his back. Why false? It was obvious by the contemptful scowl twisting his face at the pitiful scene before his eyes. He was their leader, no doubt about it.

“We need twenty strong, brave orcs. Or goblins. But no zombies!” The squad leader said, not bothering to disguise the boredom in his voice.

I kept both eyes on him.

He wore a black t-shirt, khaki military-style pants, thick-soled boots, and a long, muted gray trench coat. That same bright yellow fire decorated his gray baseball hat. He had a belt on, but I couldn’t see if there were any weapons on it, and a backpack was half-hidden behind the hood of his coat. While I was looking him over, the boss in the coat kept talking. His powerful voice easily quieted all the murmurs that had risen up after his first statement.

“First things first: we won’t pay you a single sol! Just items!”

The murmurs instantly died down, replaced by a frustrated hum. Judging by the goblins’ grimaces, this was like being promised cake, but getting thrown a hunk of stale bread instead. I grimaced, too, just in case, but decided I would definitely join them if I could. Items as compensation? Why not. I’m not too proud for that.

“What items?” Someone called out.

The answer came instantly:

“Clothes. A few shoes. Don’t expect anything special.”