When I re-awoke, it was within the confines of a small dungeon cell. A floating ball of energy hovered overhead, like the magical equivalent of an electric light fitting, flickering as it cast a luminous blue haze against the walls. I felt disorientated, and the erratic flight path of the magical orb wasn’t exactly helping. But to my relief, an internal status message was telling me that I was now in what it deemed to be a ‘safe’ zone.

My back was cold, but that was understandable. There wasn’t much between it and the rough granite floor it was currently pressed upon. My tunic had been slashed to ribbons by the beastling’s frenzied attack, but I wished that was my biggest concern. My mauled flesh ached, and my head was pounding like the player responsible was doing a victory dance on the inside of my battered skull.

I watched the hypnotic ball of energy as it danced and swirled overhead until, without warning, my view of the strange phenomenon was blocked by an eclipse. It was unusually dwarf-shaped.

“Finally,” announced the cause, leaning in a little closer. “It’s about bloody time you decided to wake up.”

Standing over me, was my new employer. And he looked visibly upset.

 “Respawned again already?” I groaned, bemoaning my rather unimpressive start to my new life as a prisoner. “Fuck, that’s got to be a record. I’ve only been uploaded five bloody minutes.”

“Don’t be impatient, lad,” replied the dwarf as he offered me his small, stubby hand. “You have to die before you can respawn. I would have thought that much was self-explanatory, even for a noob like yerself.”

The dwarf took me roughly by the arm and pulled. He had no hope of dragging me up to my feet. He didn’t have the necessary height, for a start. But he got me sitting upright if nothing else. I winced as pain signals shot through my battered torso.

“They… didn’t kill me?” I asked, startled by the revelation that I hadn’t actually died twice.

The dwarf shook his head, giving me a frustrated stare that suggested I was probably a bit slow on the uptake. I quickly checked my HP, which confirmed that I still had 38 HP remaining out of the 80 HP I spawned into the dungeon with. That didn’t add up, either. The status messages had been little more than a blur of information before I finally slipped into unconsciousness, but I was certain that they’d been throwing around slightly concerning words like ‘severe’ and ‘critical’ toward the end. I was feeling surprisingly healthy, all things considered.

 “They beat you within an inch of your HP bar,” confirmed the dwarf, as if reading my mind. “So no, ye weren’t iced, unfortunately.”

“What?” I gasped, his callous disregard for my wellbeing shocking me. “I protected you. Or, you know, I tried to, and that’s got to count for something, right? Why the hell would you say something so cold as that?”

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“Cos I was the poor sod who had to haul your unconscious ass all the way back to our personal data’s lovely new storage facility, that’s why. The fuckin’ NPC guards just stood back an’ watched, as if anythin’ beyond crackin’ heads is too complex for their puny AI. They stopped the bleedin’, but little else. Truth be told, they’d have done me a bloody favor if they’d let you bleed out back at the spawnin’ point. That way, you would have respawned wiv yer HP fully restored. Then you could have carried yer own sorry ass back here.”

“You carried me back?” I gasped, regarding his squat, weak looking frame as I spoke. For a race that was supposedly stronger than the average human, this example of the species looked remarkably scrawny.

“Oh, all right then, not so much carried, as dragged,” He admitted. “But if any of those bastard NPCs try to suggest that I kicked you down the stairs deliberately, you know, to finish you off so I could get outta draggin’ ye back, don’t you listen. They’re a dirty filthy liar’s, the lot of ‘em. You just slipped outta me grasp, was all.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Either way, he clearly hadn’t been briefed on the level-lock that came with zeroing out. Why else would he be so heavy handed with my stricken avatar?

“Well, your concern for my health is heartwarming” I replied, with more than a hint of sarcasm, before adding: “Thanks for the save. I guess we’re even.”

“No problem. Thankfully, yer health seems to replenish itself pretty quickly when yer unconscious.”

Well, that answered my next question. I looked down at my battered avatar.

“Aww crap, that overgrown mutt cut my outfit to ribbons. Doesn’t it, I dunno, regenerate or something?”

“’Fraid not, lad. An’ there’s not a lot o’ fashion boutiques down here, neither. Not fer items of the non-metallic variety, at any rate. So unless you have a seamstress skill hidden away in yer sub-routines, nothin’ short of a full respawn is gonna patch up that bloody mess.”

I sighed and tore away what remained of the upper half of my swordsman outfit. It was an action that I instantly regretted. My body was in an equally horrific state. Given the choice, I’d rather have been looking at shredded clothing, than shredded me.

Crap!

Partially to distract me from the mess the beastling had made of my new body, but mainly to ensure that I hadn’t missed anything important while I was, you know, unconscious, I dove into my status menu. As expected, it was a play by play of my epic ass-kicking. An aide-mémoire I could do without, admittedly: my wounds were reminder enough. I skimmed through the numerous confirmations of my new career as a punching bag, until something interesting caught my eye.

Rep: -19/30

I smiled as I studied my rep stat. Leaping to the dwarf’s defense had been profitable after all. But hang on, that didn’t add up. The rep points I’d gained for both completing the raid party’s quest and jumping to the dwarf’s defense had been neutralized by my blatant act of thievery and my (admittedly stupid) assault on the NPC guards. How had I crept ahead by one point? I dove back into my status menu, searching for the answer.

That was when I noticed something truly shocking. I was still listed as a ‘contractor’ to the group of frozen warriors, and apparently my ‘party’ had been successful.

“Holy shit! They actually killed the bastard. And I gained a fucking level.”