“How’s it going, Dakkon?”
“Everything’s great,” said Dakkon, and he meant it.
“I bet it is with an offer like that,” said Ramses, slapping Dakkon on the back.
“An offer like—” Dakkon began. “Ah,” the pieces snapped into place, “you work for Gullen?”
Ramses shot glances this way and that before saying, “I do, but it might be in our best interests if you didn’t mention that.”
Dakkon shrugged. “Fine. Are we talking because you saw me by chance or are you on your boss’s orders?”
Ramses rolled his eyes. “Why not both?”
“Tell him I won’t sell.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” stammered Ramses. “I said both, right? Boss is not the sort of guy you want to say no to… especially when he’s being so generous.”
“No offence, Ramses, but your boss can try to find his own dagger,” said Dakkon.
“No, man,” said Ramses. “Hear me out. He’s going to get it from you. One way, you’ll have a lot of credits—the other you’ll have nothing but a lot of grief and downtime.”
“So now you’re threatening me, too?” asked Dakkon.
“Hell no, man, I’m warning you. Boss—he gets things done, you know? He always gets things done.” Ramses took care in emphasizing the last bit.
“I get it, but I’m still not going to sell. Does that mean I need to watch my back around you too, Ramses?”
Ramses looked uncomfortable. “No, you don’t need to worry about me… but you really should watch your back,” he said. “Look, you didn’t hear this from me, but you might want to consider slipping away from town in the night and make sure no one is following you. No one will attack you in town—it’s a sort of unspoken rule in the city—but they’re gonna try real hard to make sure you don’t leave, so that means they’ll have eyes on you. If we group up, that means I’ll be a set of those eyes.”
Dakkon was surprised by the admission, “Thanks for the heads up, Ramses,” he said.
“Never mind that,” said Ramses. “Try to lay low in town for a while.”
Dakkon nodded dumbly. He was already heading to leave town in a group.
Ramses looked Dakkon in the eyes and said, “The expedition would probably be a bad idea.”
Dakkon nodded again. It seemed that perhaps the expedition wouldn’t be the simple mission he had expected.
“Take care, Dakkon. I’ve got to run, but I’m glad we had a chance to talk,” Ramses said as he raised one hand in parting, then turned to slink away.
Dakkon wasn’t sure what to think about the warning. He was certain it was made in earnest; however, he wasn’t sure how much an envious man could do to get his hands on another player’s item. Unless an item was given freely, or it was randomly dropped on death, then there really wasn’t much someone could do to take someone else’s things. Players can’t steal from other players, and the chance to drop a specific item was low. It was just as likely he would drop any other item, and more likely that he’d drop nothing at all—as far as Dakkon was aware. Regardless of his impending decision, he had someone to greet.
Cline was easy to pick out from a crowd because of his light blonde hair and massive longbow which stood taller than he did. Dakkon advanced on his friend.
“Gods, Cline, can you even shoot that damned thing?” asked Dakkon, shaking his head.
Cline turned his attention to Dakkon and beamed with pride. “Exceptionally, I assure you.” Cline stepped forward and slapped Dakkon on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” said Dakkon. “Just how strong have you grown now?”
Cline was wearing much finer leather armor than most in the crowd. It was dark with a rose tint and covered in an excess of buckling clasps from toe to torso—his arms, however, were bare save for a familiar-looking archer’s vambrace.
“I’m level 34, if that gives you any indication,” said Cline. “Have I totally left you in the dust?”
“Not totally, no,” replied Dakkon, now with a grin of his own. “I’m level 24.”
“Woah, Tian’s been good to you, huh?” remarked the well-outfitted archer.
“… says the guy wearing a matching suit of armor with more clasps and buckles than a strait jacket,” Dakkon said.
“Oh, these old duds?” asked Cline, clearly proud of his new equipment.
Whether or not he liked the style, Dakkon had to admit that, altogether, the armor was much better looking than what he was wearing, and he assumed that held true for the stats as well. Dakkon had neglected buying himself any new armor, and with his decision to not take the money for his weapon, he had a spendthrift’s mentality about acquiring any more. “Guess I’ll just have to avoid getting hit,” Dakkon thought.
A stocky warrior with a large, shiny, and unblemished shield strapped to his back bumped into Dakkon.
“Oh, sorry. I’m still getting used to the bloody thing,” said a smiling Damak.
“New shield, eh?” Dakkon asked.
“I couldn’t very well use the old one now, could I?” he asked.
“I suppose not,” said Dakkon, who turned to Cline and pointed to the dwarf-like warrior. “This stubby little guy is Damak—he’s one of the reasons I’m doing so well here. And this,” Dakkon shifted his directing hand to the tall, blonde, and be-leathered ranger, “is Cline. Easily, and uncontestably, my earliest in-game friend. He wasn’t wearing bondage gear in public when I first met him.”
The two scowled at their respective descriptors, but chuckled good-naturedly as they shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Cline.
“You betcha,” replied Damak. “Are you two joining the expedition?”
“That’s the plan,” said Cline as Dakkon nodded.
“Great,” said Damak. “It should be smooth sailing. We’ve got a team of shamans to try to calm the spirit, and a team of exorcists for when things go south.”
“You said it should be smooth sailing,” said Cline. “Don’t you mean ‘if’ things go south?”
Damak looked at Cline dryly. “Have you ever seen a group of Shamans working together to reach a common goal?”
“Well, no, not really—b—” began Cline.
Damak cut him off. “Neither have I. No one has. As soon as we get close to that powerful spirit, they’ll all try to dominate it to form a pact. That’s what they tried the last two times from what I’ve heard, and apparently attempting to break their will really pisses spirits off.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” said a young, blonde girl dressed in roughly fashioned pelts who had apparently been within earshot. Dakkon saw that it was Zelle, the helpful shaman who had explained how shamans learn spells on his first day in Tian.
Dakkon smiled and nodded in recognition of Zelle, who returned the gesture.
“The last two sets of shamans met their ends, so we’ve all agreed to do everything in our power to calm the spirit instead of controlling it. After it has calmed down, we plan on taking turns performing the pact-forming ritual. There shouldn’t be any trouble this time.”
Damak grunted.
Cline asked in a voice tinged with concern, “Wait, were the last two expeditions successful?”
“Yeah, after the shamans all pissed off and died—followed by half of the expeditionary force,” said Damak, clearly displeased at his role as tank for the upcoming battles.
“We may not even need to fight the ancestor spirit,” said a man in dark gray robes—like rich mahogany charred half-way to ash—who had been seated nearby, but was in the process of standing up with the assistance of a black staff tipped with a golden hoop which acted as a sort of key-ring connecting several more hoops. When the man got to his feet he slammed the staff’s butt to the ground, causing the rings to clatter against each other. “Even if we do have to fight, you’ll have me there.” The gray-robed man’s lips curled into a grin. The blue name that appeared in towns above each visible player’s head read Saden. “Oh, and Sift, too, I guess,” he added as an afterthought—motioning toward a seated man with tanned skin and short, neat black hair wearing a white, silken tunic. The man was sitting cross-legged and stood in one fluid motion, using no support, save for the strength of his legs. From his demeanor, he clearly thought nothing of his odd way of standing. He walked up to the growing group conversation and bowed.