“They are wrong. I am the top in this here game.”
Grave pulled a black knife from thin air and began picking at his claws. When he switched hands, the knife transferred to the other hand instantly, not even bothering to move through space.
“We will be travelling overland and will need to follow quickly wherever the wolf goes. How well do you know Verdia?”
“I know it better than Omni hisself.” Grave grinned, “This is my world. I’m a Pariah. I walk to and fro, in and out as I please.”
White grunted. He folded his arms, “Can you deal with this Viper if he becomes a problem?”
Grave disappeared with a soft puff, and reappeared with his black knife at White’s throat. Another Grave appeared seated in front of them on the table, legs crossed. A third Grave reappeared in his seat, grinning. The duplicate Graves vanished one by one.
Grave removed the knife from White’s throat and it vanished in his hand. With another puff he was back in his seat. He continued to grin like the Cheshire cat.
“Like I said, wherever I please.” This voice came from above.
Brook and White looked up to see yet another Grave walking on the ceiling, upside down. This Grave was ebony and sinuous. He trailed strands of darkness behind him as he walked. Grave’s grin revealed teeth that were black and dripped venom. The venom slid up his fangs, toward the ceiling, defying gravity and making the sight all the more unnerving. He reached out and touched a chandelier with his knife. The air filled with a faint hiss, and the chandelier began to decay and dissolve. A stream of dust fell from the ceiling; then, there was nothing.
Tungsten spoke, “Grave is an excellent tracker and deceiver. He can create illusions that will direct the wolf wherever you want. He can find the wolf in any condition. He can slip in undetected and remove any obstacles that you might have.”
Grave was back in his chair. This was presumably the real Grave, but nothing was certain. The darkness had lifted, but the evil grin remained, “I’ll lead you to the wolf and kill ‘em mahself if you want.”
Brook smiled nervously, “Your payment...”
“Unusual, I know.” Grave grinned wider, something that seemed impossible moments before, “I have mah reasons. Ya’ll can get what I want?
Brook sighed, “A Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle for the game and five million dollars for the real world. The money is easy, but the gun...”
White snorted, “That’s big iron for a little cat creature to hold. Can you even carry it?”
Grave did not answer; he only sniggered.
Brook continued, “We can give you the gun, but Omni may not allow it to function after the task is done. You may only get one shot out of it.”
“I only need one shot.” Grave pointed with another knife that had appeared from the void.
Tungsten smiled, “For an additional five million dollars, I will provide you with intelligence and some behind-the-scenes support. Anything the Conquerors know, you will know. The players know far more than anyone at Dalton about what goes on.”
Brook frowned, “Do not mention the company’s name again. This is unofficial, personal business between you and me. Is that clear?”
Both Grave and Tungsten nodded.
“Well your terms are acceptable to us. You will receive half now and the remainder upon completion. Let us know if you hear anything about the wolf. We will move when we have news of a landfall or another sighting at sea.” Brook finished his wine.
“Very good,” Tungsten clapped his hands with finality. “Even now, I have dispatched scouts to every port on the east coast. When the Alexa is spotted, you will know.”
Brook and White stood and walked out of the long hall. Grave watched them go, but Tungsten’s eyes fixed on Grave as their footsteps receded into silence.
“You never said anything about a rifle. What do you need that for?” Tungsten asked his furry gray friend.
Grave held out his hand, and a black knife appeared balanced on its point in his palm. It sank into his hand and passed through to the table, burying itself into the stone. Grave pulled his hand back and held it up, unscathed.
“That gun will put metal through armor like that there knife went through mah hand. Like a fat boy eatin’ cake. Like a shovel in soft earth. It will wipe the grin off any man’s face, no matter what he’s covert’ his ass in.”
Tungsten had caught on at this point, “You think it will pierce dragon bone? Even from a rainbow dragon?”
“Yup. Purty sparkles ain’t gonna stop depleted yer-anium.”
Tungsten laughed, “Remind me never to make you mad. That would be a “grave” mistake.”
Grave rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Maybe I use mah one bullet on you if you make a stupid joke like that again.”
Laughter echoed from the stark stone walls as they toasted to their newfound wealth.
Red Harbor
Red Harbor was nestled in a narrow river valley that led up into the steep Central Mountain range. Located on the north coast of the Great Inner Sea, it was geographically useless to most players. Red Harbor was an NPC town, sleepy and quiet. The village was comprised of a handful of huts, a small wharf, a ragtag fishing fleet, and a tavern. A small stone keep sat on top of a hill nearby - the house of the local NPC lord and a place for the villagers to run if raiders came calling. Raiders never had come calling and likely would be disappointed if they did; there was nothing of value in Red Harbor.
Even the food was nothing to get excited about. Haymaker poked at a piece of fried fish. He was watching Bishop, waiting for his friend to take the first bite. Bishop was doing the same, and a standoff ensued.
Finally, Haymaker reached for his cup. Some fisherman had brought back a nice keg of beer from a trip to a larger city; it was the only thing that made waiting in the town bearable.
“So we’ve got another week of this?” Haymaker swatted at a fly.
“This is exactly what we did at the Haven.” Bishop still had not taken a bite of his fish.
“The food was better.” Haymaker managed to grab the fly and flicked it away.
“How would you know? You haven’t tried your fish yet.”
Bishop cut a piece of fish with his fork and placed it confidently in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and took a swig of beer. His eyes never left Haymaker’s.
“Bad?”
“Terrible.”
“As I was saying,” Haymaker repeated, “we have another week of this.”
“At least. I don’t like the rumors I’ve been hearing”
“Well the rumors are true,” Wisp suddenly appeared seated between them, his legs on the table. “I am the greatest.”
Haymaker spit out some fish in surprise, and Bishop shook his head. “Get your feet off the table.”
Wisp reluctantly removed his feet from the table. He was wearing full battle gear - dark leather reinforced with rivets and small plates of black iron. The iron was wrapped in soft cloth to keep it silent. A black harness held a couple knives, extra darts, and several lengths of thin wire. Across his back was the Spark Katana; around his neck and partially covering his face was his magic cloak. His pale grey eyes gleamed with mischief. “Is this what you two do all day?”
“This is important work,” Haymaker said. “There have been no attacks on this inn since we started guarding it.”
“Have there ever been attacks here?” Wisp asked.
Haymaker snorted, “That’s enough questions from you.”
Bishop sighed, “Where is our friend with the bow?”
Wisp shrugged, “Who cares?”
“Uh oh!” Haymaker exclaimed, “Trouble in paradise!” He leaned forward and rested his chin on one massive hand. With the other, he reached forward and patted Wisp’s wrist, “Tell me all about it.”
Bishop frowned at Haymaker, “Leave the boy alone. The last thing I want to hear about is some teenage love feud.”
Wisp’s face reddened with anger and embarrassment, “What are you t
alking about? There is no love. There is no feud.”
Bishop nodded, “Good, it’s settled.” He picked up his fork to resume attacking the fish on his plate.
“Oh come on!” Haymaker sat up straight again, “You two are always stealing glances at each other. I would be careful, man. She could be a 50-year-old obese man in a trailer park in Iowa.”
“She’s not.” Wisp said defensively, “She’s from Wales and she’s sixteen like I am.”
Haymaker grinned in triumph and folded his arms. He wiggled his eyebrows at Wisp.
“Just shut up about it!” Wisp growled.
“Polite as usual, I see.” Athena stepped up to the table and sat next to Bishop. She smiled sweetly at the old mage, “How are you gentlemen?” She too, had changed out of her usual adventuring gear for heavier armor. When she peeled back her green hood, it revealed a dark green leather diadem that protected her brow, her temples, and her ears. The headpiece forced her ears to swivel back into a defensive position, giving her a permanent fierce look.
“Bored,” Haymaker replied before Bishop could respond. His mischievous eyes never left Wisp’s face, nor did his grin disappear. Wisp glared at him.
“That sums it up,” Bishop agreed. “Do you have any interesting news for us?”
“The word is that the Alexa repelled a pirate attack sometime a while back. The pirates know about the wolf and that Viper is on board. Stories conflict as to which direction the ship was headed.”
Bishop grimaced, “When Gale told me about the attack I was worried this would happen. So much for secrecy.”
Athena continued, “The Conquerors have scouts all up and down the east coast. They are paying well for information. One interesting tidbit: the neutral NPCs aren’t talking. The Conquerors are getting nothing from them, even though they probably don’t know anything concrete. I heard a Conqueror scout grumbling about this in Three Rock Breach. Even bound NPCs are reluctant to talk about the wolf. They have to be ordered to speak by their masters before giving up any rumors they know.”
“Strange,” Haymaker said. It was strange indeed. NPCs were normally excellent sources of gossip and other information that players might find useful. They were designed to be nosy and loved to talk. Bound NPCs, or those NPCs that were purchased directly at Verdia City, were essentially slaves and would never disobey their master.
Athena spoke again, “Did Gale tell you what her plans were?”
“She was vague, but she was not concerned about being detected. She said to expect them on time. I should hear from her again this evening.”
“I’m sure she knows what she is doing.” Athena smiled hopefully. When her gaze met Wisp, the smile faded and she dropped her eyes to the table.
“So, you two came here together then?” Haymaker’s eyes glowed with mirthful evil.
Bishop buried his face in his hands.
“No,” Athena shook her head. “How have you been, Wisp?”
“I have been well.” Wisp said coolly, “And yourself?”
“I have been well also,” Athena gave a tight smile.
“I think I’m going to go practice throwing darts,” Wisp jumped to his feet, tossed his black cloak over his shoulder. He headed toward the forest, which was actively pushing the small town into the water.
Haymaker watched him leave and turned to Athena, “So what’s the deal with you two? One day it’s all googly eyes and pretending not to notice each other. The next, I get the feeling that one of you killed the other’s dog.”
Bishop slapped his hand on the table, “Come on Rex, this is none of your business. I’m too old to care about this stuff, and it’s rude.”
Haymaker’s grin faded, “This is important. A few days from now we are going to be surrounded by flying roboscorpions and angry skeletons with meat cleavers - or whatever’s in that ship. When that happens, I would prefer to know if Romeo and Juliet are going to be too busy making out or trying to kill each other to keep me from being scorpion food. Remember my job? I’m the guy who says HEY SCORPIONS! ATTACK ME!”
Bishop raised his hands in supplication, “Okay, you have a point. I think, however, that there are less, um, ham-fisted ways to go about it.”
Gleaming gauntlets clanked into each other, “That’s the only way I do things.”
Bishop let out an exasperated sigh, “Athena, do you think that your performance will be affected by your relationship problems with Wisp?”
“There is no relationship.” Athena’s words were clipped and crisp, “I am rich and he is poor, therefore I feel that I am far above him and he is little more than dirt.”
Haymaker looked wistfully into the distance, “He was a boy from the wrong side of the tracks; she was a girl from the wrong side of the Atlantic...”
“Enough!” Bishop turned back to Athena, “This is absolutely none of my business, but you should talk to him. A little communication goes a long way.”
“Be careful though,” Haymaker said. “He could be a 50 year-old obese man from Iowa.”
“What do you have against Iowa?” Bishop asked.
“Have you ever been to Iowa?”
“I was born in Iowa.” Bishop took a sip from his cup.
“Even more reason for her to be cautious.”
“I would like to talk to him.” Athena had sat in silence through the exchange between Bishop and Haymaker. “I don’t think he will listen. Last time I could not even defend myself.”
“Do you like him?” Bishop asked.
“I...” she cut off, and her face wrinkled in disgust, “Oh God! I am talking about relationships with two old men in a video game. This has to be the low point in my life.”
“I wish I had a dollar for every time a woman has told me that.” Haymaker said. “I would have like… seven dollars.”
“All right, I’m done with this,” Bishop pushed his plate of fish away and stood up. “I’m going to see if Gale’s message came in yet or not. See you two later.”
…
Wisp trudged down the road leading inland from Red Harbor. Miles ahead- in the foothills under mountains that loomed dark- the road would fork. One path lead to Tungsten’s Pass, the other to the tribal lands of the Broken Moon Agilus. The Broken Moon were hostile to outsiders and ate their own dead. Through their lands, into the foothills, and partway up a mountain waited the entrance to the Agilar.
The hard dirt road was wide enough for two carts to pass with little room to spare. Wisp surveyed the surrounding trees, looking for a good straight trunk that had a clear lane to it for throwing practice. Hedges and thick brush crowded the path’s edges. Wisp realized that he would have to leave the road to get a clear shot at something.
A rustling ahead forced Wisp to hold his breath. Two or three people were approaching around a bend in the path. He faded into the shadows and silently slipped behind the hedges. Darkness folded around him as if he never existed.
“…it seems like a waste of time.” One man, with a dark hooded cloak and a short bow over his shoulder, was speaking to his companion. The other man was tall and thin, wearing copper scale armor and a battle-worn claymore on his back. They both displayed the crossed swords of the Conquerors on their garments.
“We’re getting paid, who cares?” the tall man said. “If Tungsten wants to pay me this much to check out some craphole town in the middle of nowhere, I’m taking the money without asking why.”
“All I know is that if we are looking for that wolf or for some clue for the contest, there are better places to be looking. Besides, does he really think people will let him know if they find a clue?” The Rogue shifted his bow to the other shoulder.
They were closer now, and Wisp could make out fine stitching on the man’s soft leather boots. He would be at least as stealthy as Wisp. Definitely a Rogue, and definitely a Conqueror spy.
The tall man shrugged, “Just don’t draw any attention when I go in there to talk to the locals. Don’t stir up trouble if you’re bored. I always seem to be t
he one that winds up hurt or buying new gear when you decide to get cute.”
“You chose a class with no escapes,” the Rogue chuckled. “You could have been whatever you wanted, and you became a tall gawky wiener, just like in real life.”
“No different than you choosing to be short and ugly,” the tall man looked down and grinned.
“Shut up.” The Rogue began whistling a tune.
Wisp grimaced. He couldn’t let them get to town and see Bishop. Every player knew that Bishop had helped the wolf; Conquerors would swarm the area within hours.
Wisp, however, was fairly anonymous, and his class was called Bandit for a reason. He could kill the two men and steal their belongings. Neither would think twice about it; armed robbery and murder were parts of daily life in Verdia. Before they could return, he would be able to warn Bishop and Haymaker to leave the area for a while.
He stepped out of the brush. His footsteps were perfectly silent as he crept forward. They would not even know what hit them. His gripped the hilt of his knife tightly.
With unbelievable quickness, the tall man twisted around and drew his claymore. The rogue knocked an arrow and dropped to one knee. Wisp halted in the middle of the path, crouched with his knife drawn.
The tall man laughed and looked right at him, “What do you think you are doing, buddy? I was wondering if you were just going to hide in that bush all day.”
Wisp slowly stood up straight. The man was a Warder. Stealth would be all but useless against a Warder, and in some cases being invisible or cloaked would give the Warder an easier target. He should have looked closer before moving. If he had been more careful, he would have noticed the red goggles pushed up on the man’s forehead. Copper armor was another giveaway; Warders wore copper because it enhanced their abilities.
“Hi,” Wisp grinned. “Tungsten said you were good. He was right. I’m not even sure why they sent me.”
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