by Shawn Wyatt
He grinned. "Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have money to make--er, people to heal. I'll be at the meeting area soon."
I shook my head. "See you there."
As we walked out of the Golden Boar, Evey shot a look over her shoulder. "Hard to believe that's the same guy you almost got into a brawl with when you first met."
"No kidding," I said. "That guy would have cured a hangover by knocking their heads together. He wouldn't have thought to generate a profit from it."
Evey was right. Bastion had changed a lot since we first met. We all had. The events of the past few weeks had taken their toll, but had shaped each and every one of us in ways no one could have predicted. And now we prepared to take the first step toward our freedom.
The two of us walked through the town in silence. Boris kept pace a meter behind Evey, but even he seemed to sense the more solemn atmosphere that surrounded us. His usual antics were conspicuously absent.
Bell waited for us at the meeting area. A makeshift stage had been set up so we could address everyone at once. Players had already begun to gather. I shot Evey a bewildered look. "I thought we were the crazy ones for waking up this early."
She grinned. "Looks like they're excited."
Bastion joined us after a few minutes, as did Cathbad. When all the players had gathered in the clearing, Bell stepped onto the stage. "Welcome. I thank you for joining us at this early hour. For all of our resources, time is one we do not have. I hope you enjoyed the revelry of last night. Ren?"
I stepped up on stage. At least 70 players stared back at me. "Thanks for coming out," I said. "Before I assign raid groups, there are a few things you need to know. I can't let you take part in this without full knowledge of what it means to fight in this game. Most of you are already high level, so you understand the risks--but if you reached that level by grinding, real combat will feel different." I paused. "Death is a possibility."
No one responded, so I took a breath and asked another question. "How many of you have taken hits in combat?"
A few hands raised around the crowd, but not many.
"And how did that feel?"
A tall man clad in heavy armor stepped forward. "It hurt like hell," he said. I focused on his nameplate: P!xel, a level 17 Olympian Spartan.
"Right," I said. "There are no pain inhibitors in this game. If you get hit, you'll feel it. Healing magic numbs the pain, but for the time after the initial strike you may be in something similar to shock."
Now I saw a few shocked faces throughout the crowd. Some players whispered to each other.
"The good news is that you can't bleed to death, except through a status ailment. And that's what we have healers for. And believe me, we have a few good ones with us. Some of you met one of them this morning as he got rich from curing your hangovers."
That comment was met with laughter from the crowd, and a few people flashed thumbs-up in Bastion's direction. I tried to count the players in the crowd. Myself included, we had exactly 72. Just enough for three full raid groups.
"No matter how real this feels, this is still a game, and certain rules apply that we might not see in reality. Only 24 people will be allowed inside the raid zone at one time, but that doesn't mean we can't make use of additional players. I'm going to divide all of you into three separate raid groups. Everyone level fifteen and above, move to the left. Everyone below fifteen, move to the right."
The players shifted in unison, a jumble of motion and bodies. I realized that no one had argued; my word had been taken as law. For some reason, their default response was to do as I asked. It was a strange feeling. When they had finished sorting themselves out, I realized the lower levels comprised a raid group on their own. 24 players all under level 15. I'd get to them later.
For now, I focused my attention on the larger group. "Okay, anyone between levels 15 and 17, move to the back. Anyone above 18, come to the front."
The players once again sorted themselves out. Only 22 players were above level 18, and that left the group two people short.
"I need two people from the second group. Any volunteers?"
Immediately, two players stepped forward: a level 17 Blade Guardian named LeeRoy, and a level 17 Light Guardian named Jenkins. I felt my jaw slacken as I stared at their names. "We'll volunteer," they said. In unison.
The higher-level group laughed. "Are you for real with those names?" I asked.
"Of course," LeeRoy said. "We're a brother-sister tank-healer wonder team."
I shook my head, but surveyed the group. I needed one more tank and one more healer for the main group, so this fit perfectly. "Alright," I said. "You'll be the off-tank. And you will answer to your party leaders."
They both nodded.
"Then that settles it. You all are the main raid group, including my party," I said. I turned to the second group. "You all will not be able to enter the airship landing, but we need you to help clear the path there. The less damage we take on the way in, the higher our chances of success."
The second group stared at me with rapt attention. Soldiers answering to a general, I thought. A general completely unprepared for the realities of command.
"You will also serve as our reserve group," I said. "If someone falls in combat, we will need to replace them in order to move forward. We will pull from your number for that. And you will also watch our flank and ensure no monsters come in behind us. Even though this is a game, I don't yet understand how the mechanics work for this raid. We're going in blind." I paused and looked around the clearing. "If anyone wants to back out, now is your chance. There won't be any judgement. I need anyone coming in to fight to be fully dedicated to clearing this raid, no matter the cost."
I expected people to quit. In fact, I expected half the player group to walk away. Why would they die for something with no guarantee? Even if we cleared this raid, even if we killed the Waldgeist, that didn't necessarily guarantee a way off Toris and to the next realm. At best I could make an educated guess. But in spite of these possibilities, no one left. A few people even grinned. "I want better loot than trash mobs drop!" someone shouted.
The shout was met with a cheer. "You're all idiots," I muttered, but no one heard me. "All those in the main raid group, step forward. Let's get to know one another."
They surged forward, the air thick with bravado. A flurry of nameplates appeared at the corner of my vision. I looked at their names and levels and split them into groups.
Group 1
Group 2
Group 3
Group 4
Ren, Level 19 Marauder Duelist
LeeRoy, Level 17 Blade Guardian
Pronstar, Level 18 Cosmic Terrawalker
LastRites, Level 18 Prophet of Truth
Evey, Level 19 Beast Tamer Keeper
Jenkins, Level 17 Light Guardian
BunnyGurl74, Level 18 Beast Tamer Keeper
Abracadabra, Level 18 Oracle Spellweaver
Bastion, Level 19 Prophet of Truth
xX420NoScopeXx, Level 18 Marauder Sharpshooter
Awesome_Adam, Level 18 Olympian Beserker
LanParty, Level 18 Beast Tamer Wanderer
Wish, Level 18 Oracle Invoker
P!xel, Level 18 Olympian Beserker
Shinkicker, Level 18 Prophet of Deceit
Anireth, Level 18 Oracle Spellweaver
Cathbad, Level 19 Nature Terrawalker
Rune, Level 18 Olympian Beserker
IndianaCohones, Level 18 Harmonist Balladeer
RoguesDoItFromBehind, Level 18 Dervish Dancer
Finn, Level 18 Harmonist Balladeer
Line, Level 18 Dervish Dancer
Apoc, Level 18 Prophet of Truth
MeWantPizza, Level 18 Dervish Djinn
When I finished, I took a breath. "These are your parties," I said. "Any objections?"
The players paused as they examined the groups, then a hand went up. "Just one question," Awesome_Adam asked. "Pronstar, Shinkicker, and IndianaCohones? Are you
freaking kidding me?"
Laughter erupted from the group. I had wondered about the names myself, but I didn't see the point in questioning them at the time. "We do have to do something about the names," I said. "Some are way too long to call out during a fight, so we're going to have to use nicknames. Just first names, or whatever is easiest to say."
"As long as you call me Cohones!" IndianaCohones shouted out.
I sighed. "Done."
Bell leaned over to me. "I see a Terrawalker among the group," he said. "But Pronstar seems like a strange name."
"It's a misspelling of porn star," I said.
"And a porn star is a special type of star?"
I paused and bit back the urge to laugh. "Yeah, you could say that. I'll explain later." I still had a few more things left to do. I organized the second raid group and assigned a raid leader to them, and then I called the third group up. "You all are still too low level to fight, and I refuse to send anyone in there that has no chance of survival. On the other hand, I need you for another task. From my understanding, the Waldgeist is the incarnation of an angry forest. When we kill it, it will respawn somewhere within the realm. Your job is to grow stronger and prevent it from gathering forces like it has this time."
The players nodded.
"Keep the number of Withered creatures as low as possible and keep the passageway to the other realms open. That's the most important thing you can do once we clear this place."
Only a few hours had passed, but I felt exhausted. We all needed to take a rest and enjoy what time remained.
"Go and enjoy yourselves. Gather your equipment. Upgrade your gear. We march out at dawn in two days. I'll see you all here then."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: DEPARTURE
Two days passed. In that time, activity surged in the marketplaces of Grenay. Players rushed to upgrade their equipment, to level crafting skills, and to make sure they were ready for whatever the raid threw at them. My party was no exception.
The vest Althea had given me had better stats than anything I could purchase in the marketplace, but the pants and boots needed an upgrade. A smaller guild called Fifth Avenue had formed alongside the Poor Soul's Grinding Guild. Like their name suggested, they sold everything you could imagine.
I stopped by one of the stalls and perused the items. A pair of boots caught my eye.
Gunslinger's Boots
77 Armor, +8 DEX, +5 CON
These boots have been crafted from the highest quality leather to give their wearer the highest quality footing. No one wants to trip and miss a shot. (Set 1/5)
"Hey, how much for these?" I asked.
"Three gold pieces," the player said. The man looked up, squinted, and blinked in surprise. "Oh, you're Ren."
"What?"
"You're leading the raid. Rune told us to give you and your party a break on equipment. That'll be two gold pieces for you."
I laughed and set the coins on the counter. I had not spent much since the game began. There had been little need for it; housing had been provided by the quest givers, and food was cheap. I had a surplus of 68 gold to spend. "Thanks," I said. "Do you want the old pair?"
"Just toss them in that box over there," the man said. He pointed to a large wooden crate in the corner. "We distribute those to lower level players that could use a smaller upgrade for free. Helps to keep people alive in this game."
"Good idea. What about pants? Have anything similar to the boots?"
The man tapped his finger to his chin. "I think so. Those are the Gunslinger's Boots, yeah? They're part of a full gear set. Let me grab the pants for you." He rummaged under the counter for a moment. It sounded like he had piles and piles of equipment just waiting to be purchased under there. After a bit of searching, he set the pants down on the counter. "Check them out."
Gunslinger's Pants
89 Armor, +5 DEX, +5 CON
These pants rock style and utility all in one. They're almost enough to make a man remember the Alamo. (Set 2/5)
I wondered if the game set the descriptions on the items or if players could modify them. Someone had a weird sense of humor. "I'll take those, too," I said. The DEX bonuses would increase my damage output, and the CON increase would keep me alive for longer. More HP was never a bad thing.
"Three gold," the man said.
I passed the coins and examined the pants. Beige, with buckles on the sides to attach chaps to. The chaps came with the gear, but could be removed for the times I didn't feel like making a John Wayne impression.
A mirror hung on the wall beside the stall. I ducked into the dressing room and changed--the gear equip in Perla required it actually be doffed and donned--and then looked at myself in the mirror. The outfit looked awesome, I thought, but I felt like something was missing. Then it hit me. "Hey, I need headgear," I said.
The stall owner grinned and slapped a hat down the counter. A Stetson. No stat increases, but it did bring the outfit together. "Take it. It's on the house," the man said.
I laughed and put it on. "Thanks," I said. "I like it."
"Good luck," he said. "All of us here in the city are counting on you guys to clear this raid."
When the time came to depart, the players gathered in the meeting area. Hammond, the Master of Transportation, had provided wagons for the raid groups--just big enough to fit six players each. I divided the players among the wagons based on their groups within the raid. "Take the time to get to know one another," I said. "During combat, these will be your most important allies. The rest of the raid matters, but your primary responsibility is to keep your group alive unless told otherwise."
They all nodded in response. I looked at the groups gathered around me. 48 players loaded gear into wagons, cinched equipment, and polished their weapons. The third raid group stood off to the side in solidarity. I turned to this last group and gave them a thumbs-up. "You'll be the strongest players when we set out," I said. "Defend the city and those that are lower level than you. Grow stronger. And whatever else you do, do not let the Waldgeist reach this level of strength again."
They also nodded. I turned back to the groups as a whole. "Once we set out from here, there's no turning back. Is everyone ready?"
A cheer rose around me that shook the leaves from the trees. A palpable excitement could be felt in the air. I grinned, despite the anxiety I felt. The atmosphere was infectious. "Good," I said. "Let's go get some loot."
Bell stood beside my wagon and held out a hand. I took it and gave him a firm shake. "Good luck, Ren," he said. "May the spirit of Duneyrr follow you, and may you all return victorious."
"Thank you for all of the help," I said. "What will you do now?"
"I am returning to Nyfed," Bell said. "The Waldgeist is a spirit, which means it can never be truly destroyed. However, at the moment of its death, I will assist the Elders in tracking its location. When it is reborn, we will know. And we will watch."
"I understand," I said. "Safe travels. We will let you know how the battle goes. Hopefully, anyway. But do me a favor."
"What is it?"
"If you don't hear from us, act in our place. Train another group of adventurers. It doesn't matter if we fail as long as they continue to fight. Our world is worth returning to. It's worth fighting to get our lives back."
Bell's face grew solemn, but he nodded. "You have my word."
"Thank you," I said. "With luck, we'll be back in a week or so." I climbed into the back of the wagon and took a seat beside Evey. Bastion and Cathbad sat across from us, while Wish and Finn, the Harmonist that had joined our group, took the reins. We waved our goodbyes to Bell as the wagon wheels began to turn underneath us and the vehicle trundled out onto the road.
The other seven wagons followed, a caravan of players fueled by the desire for adventurer, loot, and an overwhelming lust for victory. I hoped it would be enough.
Within an hour of leaving the borders of Grenay, the atmosphere shifted. The road we traveled was not the same one Evey, Bastion, and I had
taken the first time. Where it had once been cleared, brambles now grew thick across the span. The animals had to step carefully to avoid slashing their legs open on the razor-sharp spines that jutted from the vines.
The sky above held a dusky, ominous quality. I half-expected some form of beast to descend and attack us at any moment. Before the caravan set out, a system had been established: the two party members guiding the animals would serve watch from the front, while the two party members at the back of the wagon would watch the rear. The remaining two members of each party would take the time to make any preparations necessary, or simply to rest.
Wish and Finn still drove the animals, so they took watch at the front. Evey and I chose to sit near the back. Our ranged weapons made us the obvious choice for sitting watch. I also wanted to be visible to the wagons behind us. I thought if the group saw me doing my part, it would earn their respect more.
After some time on the road, I realized Evey's gaze had turned from the tree line and to my face. She squinted at me, twisted her face into all kinds of shapes. "What are you doing?" I finally asked.
"Nothing," she said. "I'm just trying to figure out how someone conned you into wearing a cowboy hat."
I sighed. "I chose this hat," I said. "I like how it looks."
"Uh huh," she said. "And you're wearing leather boots, leather pants, and a leather vest embedded with tree bark. You look like a cowboy raised by Native Americans."
"Says the girl with a bow and a literal bear as a companion."
She laughed. "Speaking of, I think he likes his new seat."
The wagons had room for six players only. Not six players and a bear. Before we departed, our wagon had been outfitted with a wooden top and a set of stairs that led up to it. Boris sat atop the wagon while we were on the road. It served a dual purpose: all the other wagons knew which one was the lead wagon, and the height allowed Boris to pick up any scents, and hopefully avoid any nasty surprises.