by K. T. Hanna
“You know, the tree didn’t do anything to you.” Masha poked his head around from the other side of the tree, and waved his fingers with a sigh, casting a light heal to close the bloody wounds Jirald had inflicted on himself. “Want to talk about it? Wait. If the sentence starts with Murmur or Fable, then I don’t want to hear about it.”
Jirald scowled at his guild mate. A million reasons why he should hit the tree ran through his head, but most of all was the pang of loss. Losing his healing class left him feeling adrift at first. But as he leveled, he realized the system had been right. Rogue was far better suited to him.
Masha was an exemplary healer, always had been. How he’d managed to trick the AI into giving him the same class he always played, Jirald wished he knew. Even with his slow acceptance, a sense of bitterness remained. “Well, you’re fine. You can be happy. You got to play your favorite class.”
Masha shrugged and walked around the tree, leaning his back against it as if protecting it from unwarranted attacks. “So? Quit if you don’t like it.”
It was all Jirald could do not to splutter. Instead he just glared, clenching his healed fists at his sides. “I don’t want to quit. I want to win. I want to be the best.”
For a couple of moments Masha just watched him. “You mean you want to be better than Fable, right? What if there’s already another guild better than them in this game? It could happen. Would your focus shift then?”
Jirald blinked. What a bizarre question. Of course.
But wait. Masha was sort of right. He wanted to crush Fable into the ground with the heel of his boot. He wanted to one up them the way Murmur always seemed to manage to one up him without even trying. “I doubt anyone will be better than them. But I’d want to be the best either way.”
Masha nodded, but it was obvious by the sparkle in his eyes that he’d noticed Jirald’s lack of conviction in the final sentence. “Sure you do. Got it. Might help if you leveled. Being stuck at sixteen isn’t like you. You know she’s eighteen already, right?”
Jirald scowled, noticing even Masha had already hit seventeen. What had he been doing? Wallowing in his own pool of irritation and annoyance? Oh yeah, he’d been de-leveled because Murmur’s damn knockback got him killed multiple times. He was never going to get payback if he let his nemesis get too far ahead of him in levels. “Fine. I take your point. Can we get back to killing shit?”
This time Masha grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Somnia Online location: Ululate
Dustmoon Tavern: meeting room two
Early Day Seven
Masha leaned against the doorway, chewing on a stalk of grass at the entrance to the Duskmoon Tavern’s meeting room. The dark elf stood with his back to the sunlit window, barely more than a silhouette, but Jirald could see the grin on his face. He liked mischief as much as the next person, but Masha put a lot of stock in reputation and not being a dick. It seemed the cleric had taken it upon himself to watch out for Jirald, and while it chafed that they thought he needed a babysitter, it might help to have a pocket healer along with him for the ride.
“He’s not happy with you.” Masha said from around his stalk of grass, still grinning.
Jirald just shot him a shut up I know look, and sauntered into the meeting room ahead of the cleric.
Ishwa might be a gnome, but he knew how to pace angrily with the rest of them. Jirald watched the interim guild leader for several seconds, wondering if this time the man was truly angry. Even though he didn’t intend to get the gnome riled up, it was, nevertheless, often a result of his actions. An inner part of Jirald enjoyed the experience, wondering just how far he’d have to push him to have him break.
“Why?” Ishwa stopped directly in front of Jirald and despite their huge difference in size, it felt like the gnome was looking him straight in the eyes. A small feeling of guilt wormed its way into Jirald’s stomach, surprising him until he squashed it.
“I needed to get some aggression out.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked away.
“You’re a damned rogue. Go kill some poor unsuspecting solo mobs.” Ishwa snapped the words out, his thick eyebrows knitting together in a comical manner.
Jirald had to force himself not to laugh at the moth-like way the hair spread over the eyes. Still, he knew that, in his own way, Ishwa was looking out for him. Grating his teeth together, he bit down on a sarcastic retort. “I know. Sometimes I just need to get things out of my head, though.”
“Out of your head?” Ishwa tapped his foot, his irritation clear. “So attempting to stab a guild leader in the back, and then training a group of mobs onto her wasn’t enough to get the irritation out of your head?”
Each word he spoke crescendoed until Ishwa was almost yelling. When he put it that way, it did sound a little over the top. But at the same time, anger nibbled at the back of Jirald’s mind. Why did no one understand what this bitch put him through.
“She threw me into a crocodile infested swamp where I got multiple deaths and lost a level, Ishwa. She’s not as harmless or helpless as you seem to think!” He couldn’t help the getting angry, or letting his frustrations out. The forums had been the one place he could go to and find some anonymous support, some anonymous outrage.
“Did she do that before or after you tried to kill her twice?” Ishwa raised an eyebrow giving his moth look a slightly off kilter wing. Instead of comical though, it was marginally terrifying.
Jirald half-scowled and half-pouted. “That’s beside the point.”
“That’s exactly the point you idiot!” Ishwa stopped, glaring at a spot behind Jirald that the rogue thought was probably Masha with his lazy grin.
“A week. I need you to be on good behavior for a week. No trying to literally stab the leader of another guild in the back. No starting shit in the online world, and for fucks sake, go and get your level back and stop posturing so much.” Ishwa’s tone was harsh.
“In-game days or real world?” Jirald’s tone was sullen, and he stuck his jaw out in distaste. He’d only ever had a small group of friends in-game, and appeasing them was far better than trying to go it alone in a game that practically required groups for content.
“In-game.” Ishwa hesitated slightly as if reconsidering. “But there’s no tolerance on this. You will behave Jirald. I can’t afford to let one player ruin things for the rest of the guild.”
“Got it.” Jirald dusted his leathers off, even though they appeared to be clean, and squared his shoulders. “I’ll stop fooling around now.”
“I’ll leave you in Masha’s capable hands then.” Ishwa sighed and turned around. “Go level, I’ll join you all shortly.”
Jirald hesitated until Masha placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him out of the room. There was a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach, like he’d swallowed a rock or something. It gave a queasy vibe and he didn’t like it. Was it guilt over disappointing one of his friends? Surely not. After all, he’d been completely justified in his actions.
“Sometimes.” Masha began, still chewing on that damned piece of grass. “Sometimes you need to just suck it up. You can be far too pig-headed for your own good, kid.”
“Don’t call me a kid!” Jirald practically spat the words out.
Masha stopped, and looked him dead in the eye. “Then stop acting like one.”
The words sent a chill down Jirald’s spine as Masha removed the guiding hand and began walking away, leaving the choice to follow entirely up to the rogue. He had to get his shit together. Being so scattered and volatile wasn’t helping his cause. Taking a deep breath, he drew on his anger, channeled it, and suddenly felt much more clear headed.
Jogging after Masha, he smiled. Time to vent that anger in the best way he knew how. Killing shit, and maybe, at some stage, he’d bag himself a psionicist.
Murmur frowned. The recipes she’d picked up were fi
ne, but she was definitely going to need to get better ones once they hit twenty. And they were going to hit twenty soon. She had no idea how the hybrid class system worked yet, or how many more abilities she’d get. She really needed to get her research on. No one had hit twenty yet, and the information about the hybrid system was vague and slightly disconcerting. It appeared to be meant to complement the class you already played. Perhaps leveling her daggers had been for nothing.
“What are you cooking?” Telvar peered over her shoulder, and for just a moment, Murmur froze.
“Mushroom and duck legs. I have no idea where we got duck legs from in the guild inventory, but we have them, so I’m cooking them.”
“You sure you aren’t poisoning them?” He wrinkled his nose comically.
“Shut up,” she told him, trying not to laugh. “You wouldn’t cook anything better. You’re a dragon. You just kill it, breathe on it, and eat it. You’re no connoisseur.”
This time Telvar laughed, and he sounded like he’d returned to his former jolly self. Which was a blessing in disguise since she didn’t like putting up with a moody dragon. “Touché.”
She spent the next ten minutes combining food, which was one of the most mind-numbing tasks she’d ever performed in her life. There was a reason she loved to adventure. While she appreciated crafters, and frankly, had a hell of a lot of healthy respect for their dedication, it just wasn’t one of those past times she enjoyed.
Finally, she stepped back and surveyed her new inventory. Eighty-eight meals in all, each with a three hour duration. The others needed to learn to cook. She was getting sick of this. But it would keep them leveling for hours.
“You do all of that for your friends?” Telvar half sat with his hip against the table, balancing one foot on the floor as the other knee lifted half over the stone table.
“You know that’s unsanitary, right?” she said, her tone dry. “Lizards aren’t supposed to be kept in the kitchen.”
“Be nice, Murmur, or I’ll think Michael’s brain pieces have started affecting you.”
While she could tell he was joking, she knew he really wasn’t. The fact that the shiny rocks were a part of Michael’s brain creeped her out. Sincerely. Having it riding in her pocket...
“Mur?” Sinister poked her head around the door, “Whoa. What happened in here? Is this what you were doing while we were asleep?”
“No, this was all Tel.” Murmur waved in the lacerta’s direction and got busy divvying out food to her friend. “I did however make these. Enough for everyone. But I’m getting sick of cooking.”
Sinister laughed, back to the silvery sound that echoed beautifully around the room. “I was sort of surprised you took it up in the first place.”
“I was impatient.”
“You always are, Mur. You always are.” Sin shoved her own food into her inventory. It was an odd action, to watch things suddenly disappearing into a veritable blackhole.
“Well.” Murmur smiled and elbowed her friend, jostling the food in her arms so that the dark elf glared at her half-heartedly. “You’ve known me longer than anyone.”
Sin’s glare transformed into a soft smile. “You bet your ass I do. And Mur, don’t worry. I’m keeping an eye on you out there.”
The last was said softly, and Sin cast her eyes downward as she spoke. Murmur didn’t know what to say. Did that mean what she thought it meant?
“I won’t let anything happen to you anywhere. You mean too much to me. We mean too much to me. So don’t worry, okay?” Finally Sin looked back up, tears welling in her eyes, barely held at bay.
Murmur smiled, remembering when they’d been kids, sneaking each other their favorite snacks. Yeah, she’d been with Sin a long time. Life or virtual life without her wasn’t possible. She reached out and gave her longest friend a very soft hug, whispering into her ear before she pulled away. “Very okay.”
Sin beamed from ear to ear, a slight blush coloring her dark cheeks as Murmur stepped back.
“Are the other—” But Murmur stopped short as Beastial, Devlish, and Merlin walked in, arguing about target practice or something, she thought from the gestures. Guess the others were logging in. She smiled as she watched them, greeted them in return, and decided it wasn’t so bad to have them all with her. Most times it was even pretty fun—when they weren’t hiding shit from her, anyway.
As the rest of them poured into the kitchen, Telvar shifted and motioned to Murmur to join him. She rolled her eyes as she turned to do so, and he tugged her into a corner. “Look. That piece of stone you have emanates a kind of frequency. It’s not something that people like your friends will be able to focus in on, but someone like Arita and other such NPCs...well. It’s probably why she gave you the leech and didn’t kill you on the spot.”
“Gee. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she snarked, followed by a sigh because she knew he was right. She looked him straight in the eyes while speaking “Can I give it to you and know you won’t absorb it? Know you won’t try to get power drunk on it?”
“Do you trust me?” he asked her, and for a moment her only thought was of that animated movie with the magic carpet and she almost burst out laughing, but choked it down, trying to remain serious herself.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of isn’t good enough, Murmur. If you can trust me with it, I’ll take it, but if you feel you can’t, then go to my lair now, and place it somewhere I won’t immediately find it. I’ll even lift the protections from my vault just for a few minutes so they don’t rip you to shreds.”
She blinked at him and ran over everything she’d been through in her mind. Her gut was telling her that she did trust him. Even her brain seemed convinced she could, but at the same time there was this tiny voice reminding her that he was an AI. It was the only thing holding her back. Which, if she thought about it, was its own type of discrimination. “Fine. You take it.”
She ripped another piece of her robe off and wrapped it around the stone. “There. Now it won’t touch you either. Maybe that’ll help with temptation.”
His eyes mirrored the thanks he spoke, and he headed down to his lair, hopefully to place it into safekeeping.
For a few moments Murmur watched him walk away, trying to clamp down on the concern blossoming in her chest. After all, her thought sensing was always active, and every time he looked at that evil little piece of rock, she could feel him legitimately fighting something.
“He did one hell of an overhaul of this place.” Beastial turned around with a huge grin on his face, taking in the whole kitchen as Murmur walked back up to the group. It seemed everyone except Dansyn was already back.
“Dan is running an errand. Let’s make sure we’re ready to head out and have a plan for when he gets back. I’m getting antsy at having been this level for far too long.” Murmur tried to pull herself back together and get the business side of leveling back into her system. Doling out the food, she moved around the group, trying to ignore the slight light-headedness she felt. Maybe next time she’d try and take a catnap in-game. Her in-game body didn’t seem to need rest, but her mind felt a little heavier than usual.
“Sure.” Havoc sounded slightly hesitant. “Hey Mur, you are aware that your robe is majorly shredded, right?”
“Did it myself. Latest in enchanter fashion,” she quipped with a brief wink at him. He’d been so quiet since she found out about the coma; she’d begun to worry about him. It was nice to see him piping back up.
“Oh wait!” Suddenly she remembered and a huge smile began to spread over her face. “Come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
She led them through the antechamber, and out into the courtyard, past the actual castle construction and to the soon-to-be crafting workshop. “Here we are. Neva, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Neva. She is our only current trade-skiller, but she’s able to make potions, and craft caster wea
r!”
Neva’s eyes went wide, and she blushed furiously at the sudden attention. Murmur stood back, crossing her arms, proud of her handiwork.
“Oh good. I’d meant to check with you if she was the one who made your kickass level thirteen armor, but then things sort of got hectic.” Beastial stood next to Mur, smiling while he reached down and scratched his cat’s head. “She seems like a good sort.”
“Yeah, and she makes really nice gear. And potions, Beast. Potions.” She glanced up at him, just in time to see a huge grin on his face as he watched his guild mates. He was the perfect recruiter.
Neva’s grin took up her entire face. A small hint of color spread through her cheeks. She reminded Mur of a happy puppy.
“Anyway, we need to figure out where we’re heading to before Dan gets online. I know there are a few places we haven’t visited yet on this continent, but I sort of want to travel. We should check out Pelagu. We’ve been too busy with everything to bother stopping in there, but it looks amazing.”
“Got the travel bug, eh Mur?” Beastial’s smile was kind. “Sure. Why not? Let’s leave these shores. We can always bind over there, and keep our homeport set here, which will be pretty damn useful.”
“That’s the plan. I’m just not sure which continent we should go to yet.” She watched the others, and saw Neva trying to catch her eye. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Neva seemed entirely overwhelmed, especially since Sin had somehow managed to glomp onto her by the time Murmur got over to them. “Cut it out, Sin.”
“But she gave me a robe! It’s red. She said the blood won’t show on it! I love her. Can we keep her?” Sin’s face was lit up with joy, and Murmur could see a gorgeous flowing red robe hung over her arm.
“That’s fantastic, but you should really let her breathe. I have no intention of letting her go.” Murmur gently pried Sin’s arms from around the poor luna. “Sorry Neva. Sin is excitable.”