The first foray

A slender, hooded woman moved soundlessly through the corridors of the Rogue Guild, leaving behind the beating heart of the Guild that was the somewhat pompously-named Chamber of Tablets. Every other guild had a chamber like this. The Warriors, the Hunters, the Naturalists, the Wyches…

The Guilds existed solely for the benefit of what were once Player-controlled characters, although there were always some NPC members in and around them; notable figures who made their name during the world’s tumultuous events, or just background figures that existed only to create an illusion of life.

Now the Guilds were more crucial than ever, for they held the keys to the power that the heroes held as birthright, and the keys were the Tablets. Etched in stone, they depicted and described the techniques that the Players once invoked at a press of a button, but which now required intense concentration and the right move or invocation. Or both. The Tablets were twice the height of an adult, and each rested against a plinth of a statue depicting the subject by a figure frozen in action.

There were eighteen of them arranged around the massive chamber in the Rogue Guild, and each one was mandatory study material for any Rogue worth his or her knife. Mysteriously, there were empty plinths too, as if anticipating the existence of something hitherto unknown. The solution to this riddle still eluded even the one Player who was currently the Guildmaster.

The woman strode with confidence of someone who was very much attuned to the teachings of the tablets, but even one such as her sometimes needed to confirm something. People of all crafts must keep their tools and their wits sharp, after all.

‘Took your sweet frakking time, eh?’ asked Bittervet of the woman emerging from the deceptively plain door of the Guild.

‘Don’t rush a lady,’ Sinistic bit back looking down on him, which was easy to do while walking down the stairs.

‘You’re no lady, that’s for sure.’

Sinistic gasped theatrically. ‘Oh my! How dare you? What is it about me that’s not ladylike, hm?’ She pointed at her body. ‘And think before you answer,’ she added, putting her hand on her very wicked-looking dagger stowed in a thigh strap.

‘Ladies don’t assassinate friends to prove a point,’ he said, squinting his eyes.

‘Oh. That.’ She replied with well-practiced innocence, and let the pause last. ‘But it solved your problem, didn’t it?’

‘Don’t do that again. Let’s go, they should now be meeting in Rockbase.’

She nodded and they headed east through the streets of Sorostade. She neatly slipped her arm around his own, and he allowed it. Thus they walked, two of the formerly most dangerous Players of NAVIS Online and members of rival Clans. Him, a Player of all classes and recently a Wych of countless battlegrounds; her, a Rogue with a precious ability, a trait, that went beyond anything that ever existed in a game or was carved in a stone tablet.

Sorostade was a city inhabited by… well, people. Players of NAVIS Online still did not have a good name to call them in lieu of a name that now felt very inappropriate, even if it was somewhat true: NPCs. For all intents and purposes and by every measure, they were people. Humans. The city was theirs; they built it, they lived in it, and they ruled it. And from their perspective, those who once were Player characters, fell somewhere on the scale from mercenary to hero.

Of course, none of the ‘heroes’ had seen the city rise. As far as they could tell, none of this existed before two months ago, when they collectively awoke in a world that was unknown but still somehow reminiscent of an online game NAVIS Online, of all things, and rubbed their eyes and laughed in disbelief. Or screamed in terror.

Ironically, Sorostade housed all kinds of places and services that the superhuman Players needed: forges, banks, trading posts, crafters, anything - but in the new reality, Players needed a place that was more than that. They needed somewhere to live. They needed home.

Thus Rockbase was founded. First a camp in the outskirts, then a district, and now a brick-and-mortar town on its own right. All of this was made possible by feats of strength and endurance that only the strangers from the outside world were capable of. And yet Rockbase was still intricately interconnected with Sorostade, like a mushroom with an oak. Guilds were one such connection.

---

Having left their meeting point behind them, the deadly duo made their way east. Before them was the Eastend street - once appropriately named, now not so much - where several houses were owned by the Torvis family, lately the luckiest merchants in town. This was once the place where even birds turned back, but now was a critical connector to the new bridge that spanned the long crack in the ground that sometimes hosted a river, if one was generous enough to call it that. They went past houses, stores, workshops, bars, taverns; it was before noon and some of the establishments were not yet open for business. It was in these kinds of places that adventurers had their needs fulfilled, such as item repair and upgrade, food and drink, or buying and selling.

That is, before they opened their own establishments in Rockbase.

---

‘...so Simone should really hurry up and invent high-heels already, is what I’m saying.’

‘Give her a break, she’s like, what? Forty at least?’

‘I know, I know. She’s great though. None of us would have proper, modern underwear without her. We women should put up a statue of her. Seelastraxx may think she owns the place, but even she must either bow to Simone or go bare-cheeks. Wait, now that I think of it, does she…’

The conversation between two familiar voices reached Tycho’s ear from around the corner. He had been sitting on a rock underneath a tree, explaining the order of the day to two listeners. Still sitting, his plate-armored body turned to the direction the conversation was coming from.

‘Took your sweet damn time, didn’t you?’ he asked, seeing Bittervet and Sinistic emerge from an alley. Hearing him, the two newcomers looked at each other’s face and barely contained laughter, to Tycho’s puzzlement. Why is that funny? he wondered.

‘You’re late,’ he added.

‘Guilty,’ said Sinistic, holding out her wrists. ‘What are you gonna do, frakkin arrest me?’

‘Hehe, no,’ said Tycho, his well-known good nature reasserting itself. ‘This is Cuckoo and Arthroo, they’re kids, and they’re our backpacks for this trip.’ He gestured to the man and woman standing behind him which Bittervet and Sinistic only now paid attention to. They definitely did not look like kids, but that was to be expected.

Bittervet looked them up and down. Gone were the times when he could hover his mouse pointer over a character and read their name, level, class, and Clan membership. But what he could see plainly with his own two eyes was a strong facial similarity between the two figures standing before him.

‘Are you siblings?’ asked Bittervet.

The two nodded.

‘I am Arthroo, or Arthur in real life, and this is my sister Cockatoo or… ah, she doesn’t like her name,’ spoke the man. ‘I was level 53 on June 1st, and she was 45. She’s a Naturalist, I’m a DK. We were… or still are? High-schoolers.’

The sister nodded again, saying quietly:

‘Thank you for taking us with you.’

‘Oh, and nothing must happen to them. I’m looking at you, Sinistic. If one of them dies, it’s mission failed.’

Sinistic pretended to be too busy examining her nails to hear that last part.

‘All right then. Where are we going?’ asked Bittervet the Wych.

‘Stormfront Temple,’ replied Tycho the Warrior, raising from his seat. He mounted his large, round shield on his back, and then fastened his axe to his belt. The shine of his polished armor was rivalled only by the shine of his clean-shaved head.

Bittervet raised his eyebrows, a rare sight on him. He was seldom surprised by anything.

‘Hold up. I thought you’re testing people for potential raids today. Sorry, but I don’t need to be tested. I’ve earned my spot long ago. Find someone else to taxi the kids.’

Tycho raised his hands to appease the Wych. ‘But it’s not why you specifically are here. Before you ask: it is because a lady said she’s not coming if you aren’t. She didn’t tell you?’ Tycho had a very gentle smile on his face saying this.

Bittervet turned slowly towards Sinistic behind him, who was currently pulling the most innocent face she could possibly manage.

‘You…’ he sighed. ‘I can’t tell if this is sweet or toxic.’

---

‘So why Stormfront Temple of all places?’ asked Bittervet. It was a level 70 to 80 place back then.’

‘It’s close enough to do a round trip within two days, and because I kind of like it,’ said Tycho.

‘For a change it does have a pretty cool name, I hafta say,’ interjected Sinistic out of nowhere. A moment ago she was nowhere to be seen, and now she was between them without anyone noticing her approach. ‘We as a community have a streak of shit names for things. I mean, Rockbase? Really? Come on.’

‘We tend to name things in a very direct way,’ admitted Bittervet. ‘Stormfront Temple is literally a temple carved into a cliff facing really bad storms from the sea,’ he said, turning his head to the two youngsters as if giving them a lecture. ‘Waves crash into it so loudly you can hardly hear anything else.’

‘What’s in the temple?’ asked Arthroo.

‘Lots of fish-people and tentacle-worshippers. And some snakes.’

The sun was now high up in the sky. They had been marching for several hours in the westward direction, towards the sea the Sorostade people named Grey Sea for its tendency for cloudy skies and stormy conditions. I could imagine us naming it the same way, thought Bittervet.

‘Someone really needs to come up with some form of faster travel,’ said Sinistic. ‘I can’t be bothered walking everywhere like some pleb.’ She had been fidgeting with her bags with food, drinks, and Rogue things for the last few moments as they walked. She struggled with uneven distribution of weight which annoyed her during the march.

‘Yeah, it’s about time someone figured out what the Riding skill is for in a world with hardly any horses,’ admitted Bittervet, and Tycho nodded. It must have been even more tedious for someone as armored as Tycho to walk long distances, but somehow he never complained. Not once.

‘Someone will figure it out soon,’ Tycho smiled, truly believing it. ‘Right, we turn right here. Down that valley. It’s not far now.’

What a guy, thought Bittervet. He had never met a person as different from himself as Tycho. This specimen seemed to always be content with his lot in life and never asked for more. And what a fantastic contrast to Sinistic! I wonder whose aura will come out on top when this is through.

‘Should I carry some of that for you?’ helpfully offered Arthroo, who was already carrying some of his sister’s load, even though she was more than capable to carry it herself.

‘N-no?’ replied Sinistic, taken aback by the suddenly offered helping hand. ‘Why would you?’

The young Dark Knight gestured towards the Warrior marching up front. ‘He said we’re backpacks, so isn’t this what we’re supposed to do…? I know I should have asked sooner, but…’

‘You got that wrong,’ said Tycho from the front. ‘You’re our backpacks. We’re carrying you today.’

‘Oh,’ Arthroo understood now. Then he seemed to deflate a bit. ‘I suddenly feel much less useful.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Your job during this trip is to watch and learn. However… which skills have you two learned so far?’ asked the clattering heap of armor.

‘I have Malintent Aura, Flesh Grip, and Darkblade. I thought an aura would be easy to learn and bring to a party, but nope… It’s very hard to maintain continuously. I keep dropping it when I have to use another ability or have a conversation.’

‘I have Swiftness and Healing Touch, but I still have to, uh, touch people to do it,’ spoke Cockatoo. I’m sorry I don’t have more. I am learning several at the same time whenever I can!’

This was more or less what Tycho expected of the latest batch of Players who eventually found courage to venture out from the safety of their town. The controlled chaos of first-person combat, in one’s own body, did not come easily to some. There were still thousands of people in Rockbase who have not even killed a skeleton within the last two months. Arthroo and Cockatoo still had a long way to go before they could pull their weight in a dungeon, but they were now doing the most important step.

---

‘I, uh, know you said our job today is to sit and watch, but I somehow thought there would be less watching,’ cautiously whispered Arthroo.

‘Hear, hear! Listen to the voice of youth, you tincan!’ Sinistic did not whisper at all. ‘Let us at them and be done with it.’

Arthtroo did not care if the praise was real or not. That woman… where did they find someone like that? He searched for his sister’s face to see if she felt the same discomfort at seeing what happened since the actual dungeon started, but she only stared at the floor and her hair hung loose, hiding her face from his angle. Nobody told me it would be like that, he thought.

They were quite deep into the dungeon, having descended by a narrow and twisting staircase carved into the side of a weather-beaten cliff. They had to place their feet sideways, so short were the steps, evidently not made with humans in mind, and upon reaching a specific threshold, Tycho had everyone draw weapons, put on helmets, and get serious.

The corridors and chambers were likewise chiseled into the rock with surprising skill for a bunch of aquatic humanoids that hardly managed to wield spears. Clearly, the current dwellers were not the makers of this place, and yet it seemed perfectly adapted to their needs. There was some level of water in every single interior, sometimes stagnant, sometimes flowing like a stream. Under Tycho’s command they dispatched several packs of enemies with ease, although Tycho demanded they do it in a very specific way each time. This wore down Sinistic’s enthusiasm who wanted to just draw both of her knives and go in like a lawnmower.

‘No,’ Tycho the tincan was adamant. ‘We will wait. Feel free to entertain yourselves with a snack or something.’

The Rogue rolled her eyes but said nothing. Bittervet looked amused for a change, despite his initial unwillingness to be in this party.

‘W-won’t they hear or notice us?’ asked the young Dark Knight anxiously, walking over to help his sister fit the newest cape that randomly dropped from a common monster earlier on. ‘Do they even have ears? Are they blind…?’

‘It doesn’t matter if they have ears or not,’ patiently explained the Warrior. ‘It’s one of those weird things you always see in games. Enemies are too stupid to notice us, unless we walk into their range of detection. We were very surprised to discover this back in the first week after we ended up here. So many other things are brutally realistic, but not this. This is still a game-like mechanic. Why? Dunno.’

‘Also true for items randomly dropping from killed mobs,’ added Bittervet. ‘This one is actually funny as heck. I once saw a goblin drop a piece of equipment that was bigger than its body, haha,’ the Wych laughed from underneath his dark-purple hood with symbols etched in red.

‘Now that I think of it, I haven’t heard our little Naturalist since we entered,’ noticed Sinistic. Cockatoo shivered at this attention from the Rogue. ‘You gotta be bolder! Be like your brother. He asked so many questions even Tycho wants to go home already, tee-hee,’ she giggled.

‘Yeah. Is he always like this?’ asked Bittervet of Cockatoo.

‘Come on you guys…’ murmured Arthroo.

The Naturalist only shook her head, avoiding eye contact.

‘So shy,’ observed Bittervet, turning now to Arthroo. ‘Is she always like this?’

‘I… we are somewhat shaken at the moment. We show it differently,’ said the Dark Knight.

‘Aww, but we’re being so nice!’ complained Sinistic. ‘I’m a delicate beam of sunshine.’

A delicate beam of sunshine that just slit throats, Arthroo said to himself.

‘That doesn’t make any sense. A beam of sunshine can’t be delicate,’ commented the Wych from the other side of the group. The female Rogue ignored him, and continued:

‘What’s there to be scared of? Worst case is you die. It kinda sucks but you get used to it.’

‘We haven’t died yet,’ said Arthroo quietly, staring at the floor with his sword across his lap.

‘Don’t make a fuss. But you know, even this big and mean and scary and bitter old veteran Wych was scared to die for the first time,’ Sinistic giggled with a wry smile, while Bittervet got grumpy.

‘Oh… and what helped you with that?’ Arthroo asked, and both siblings raised their heads and paid extra attention.

Bittervet looked aside at Sinistic, extremely proud of herself.

‘A friendly assassin, you could say.’

Now even Tycho interrupted his observation of the area and turned to observe the exchange.

‘And he even said such adorable things. Like: be gentle with me, this is my first time, haha!’

‘That didn’t happen,’ clarified the Wych, immediately changing the subject. ‘Look, everyone has fears. For example, Sinistic is afraid of having a job. Anyway, the bottom line is that you’ll be fine. It will hurt a little, and you will be back in Rockbase a moment later. No, in Sorostade, actually.’

‘And what if we… don’t?’ Cockatoo finally asked a question, one that preyed on her mind.

‘Then you’re the lucky ones,’ murmured Tycho.

‘Looks like someone spent too much time with Senkar,’ the Rogue remarked. Silence fell, interrupted only by the ubiquitous sound of flowing or dropping water, and the crash of waves outside.

‘Who is that Senkar?’ finally asked Arthroo.

‘Just a guy who really hates respawning. More than dying,’ said Tycho. ‘Ah, finally, there they are,’ pointed the Warrior’s gauntleted hand.

Out of a corridor emerged a pack of eight enemies: six fish-men armed with nets, spears, or poisoned needle-darts, and two serpents that followed them, slithering along the floor. This was not out of the ordinary, but what was the actual noteworthy fact was that another such patrol was already in the chamber.

‘So this was your plan,’ said Bittervet. ‘Wait out the moment two patrols meet in this place before pulling any enemies. A bad pull could wipe us all here. You could just tell us, you know,’ Bittervet sighed.

‘Ah, but then how would I know how you respond to situations you don’t like or understand?’ Tycho addressed the question to both Bittervet and Sinistic. The latter only shrugged. ‘Such valuable information at the cost of only fifteen minutes. A good deal, by my book.’

‘Yeah yeah, whatever. Can we kill them now and move?’ The Rogue urged.

‘Yes, but we will do it my way. See the pack on the left, the one with the large urchin-like thing? I want them dead one at a time. Incapacitate three, kill one, then another, repeat.’

‘Doing things by the book, eh?’ remarked Bittervet. ‘That takes me back…’

‘Yeah, we’re practicing discipline and coordination. Also, we don’t have a real healer. Sorry, Cockatoo,’ Tycho said to the young Naturalist, and she nodded her understanding. ‘Okay then. Wych paralyzes the finblin with Terror of the Void ‘cause it’s a humanoid. Rogue disorients the tentacle-faced one. And you Arthroo,’ Tycho now commanded the attention of the Dark Knight. ‘You wait until the serpent hits me at least two times, then you do a Flesh Grip from this place right here, at distance. It will waste time slithering back to me. Afterwards, you hit whatever target I’m hitting. Urchin dies first because it’s annoying, then the finblin because it can break away sometimes. Then whatever. Little bird stays here. Understood?’

Heads nodded back at him.

‘Good. Pull your pants up and let’s go!’