Lorelei leaned against the vendor’s stall, savouring the momentary lull.
Almost from the first moment of the integration, it had felt like she had been forcibly lurched from one battle to another without really having a moment of pause. The helter-skelter running from one crisis to another was not really conducive to moments of calm reflection, so – despite being stood in the middle of a giant field surrounded by people at a far higher level than her – she was going to enjoy this moment of quiet.
Her team were all clustered around her, each bitching and moaning in a way that she found extremely endearing.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually had friends. Not ‘friend’ friends, anyway. A professional lifetime in HR had taught her how to smile politely, nod in the right places, and separate herself from everyone else’s endless carousel of drama.
Listening, nodding, offering “open door” policies—HR’s three-pronged approach to deflecting friendship. After all, no one ever felt quite at ease around HR. Especially one whom it was an open secret was fucking the boss. She was the one with the clipboard, the carefully neutral expression, and the omnipresent knowledge of everyone’s mistakes. With the absolute certainty that she would be using what she knew in whatever way the Prick with the prick thought best.
But here, with this ragtag little team? Somehow, despite all her best HR-trained instincts to keep them at arm’s length, it appeared that she’d started to like them.
It was hard not to, after all.
They’d fought beside her, bled for her, and even shouted at her when she was being a bit of a pain. Not to mention, they’d all had far too many close encounters with death and other deeply unpleasant things to keep up any pretences.
None of them – she was ignoring the existence of Kriss right now - were going to file complaints about her management style.
And here they were, all standing around her: grumbling, griping, and yet – despite it all –sticking by her side. It was like a family, if you threw away all the bloodlines and just kept the arguments.
“Look at us,” Zorrobar said, eyeing a greasy flagon on the stall. “Conquering golems one moment and still paying full price for meat on a stick.”
The Vendor – another one of the suspiciously similar Goblin NPCs that seemed to be the system’s default – cocked her head and glared. “You really think I’m going to throw in a freebie after that shitshow?” It stirred a ladle through the giant cauldron before it. “In fact, prices went up,” she said. “Call it a shitty, sloppy victory tax.”
Lorelei opened her mouth to argue, but a pinging notification quickly shut her down.
***Help Message***
Don’t get into a row with the NPCs, moonface. Especially ones who are twice your level and have the freedom to ‘keep the peace’. I know. I know. Not one of my better ideas. But – on the plus side – it seems to be helping us stabilise all the genocide. For some reason, vendors who will absolutely pull your face off if you accidentally trash their shop whilst murdering your fellow citizens is doing a pretty decent job of pouring cool water on all the stabby-stabby ire.
Lorelei decided not to argue about the price much more after that.
Chrissy had all her attention on Steffan, who was stood a few steps back from the rest of them, staring off into the middle distance. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? You must be starving after constant summoning?”
Steffan didn’t respond. All his undead were gone – they vanished the second the Golem finally hit the ground - and so was any conversational talent he had ever possessed.
Lorelei frowned at him slightly. She’d always found the young man to be awkward, but endearing, company. But whatever had happened during that tournament had changed him. Sure, it was great that the Necromancer now had access to all of his creatures, even after destruction, but she wondered whether the trade-off had been worth it. This newly silent Steffan was . . . weird.
Chrissy was still doing her best to try to catch his eye. “Steffan, hello? Can you hear me?”
The Necromancer didn’t even look her way. “They’re just . . . not here.”
Zorrobar put his arm around Chrissy, offering her a drink. “Don’t worry about him, love. He’s just tired. He was pulling his things back into the game as fast as that obstacle course could drop them down.”
Chrissy patted the Fire Mage’s arm and then took the drink over towards Steffan. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about the cheerleaders? They’re zombies; they don’t get days off.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Steffan’s gaze stayed fixed on the cobblestones. “They’re resting.”
Michael and Michelle both let out a synchronised laugh at that. “Resting? Right.”
The Necromancer looked up then, staring at the brother and sister with a fixed, flat expression. They all waited for Steffan to respond further, but he just stood there. Staring.
Zorrobar took back the drink from a crestfallen Chrissy. “Looks like somebody’s in a mood.”
***Ooops Message***
Yeah. It might be I broke him. Sorry about that.
Lorelei dismissed the message, scanning the square, spotting a familiar absence. “Speaking of moods—where’s Kris? Anyone see where he went?”
“Fuck ‘im” Pete said, earning himself a surprised look from the rest of them."Wot? The fucka left us te die, man! Used us as bait for that bloody Golem an' snuck off! Bollocks te him. An’ when yer done, bollocks te him some more!"
Lorelei couldn’t find it in her heart to exactly disagree.
“He’s probably just wandered off somewhere,” Hel said. “I imagine Charm Leeches don’t like it when they’re not the centre of attention.”
“Yeah, he’s probably off hunting down some other suckers,” Zorrobar added. “Can’t risk running low on Adoration, can he? Not now he doesn’t have us to depend on us.”
Lorelei smiled at that. It looked like quite a lot of scales had finally fallen from eyes . . .
Hel took a massive bite from the unidentified meat the Goblin had passed her. “Tell you what, he better lie low for the foreseeable. An axe to the head often offends.”
For almost the first time in their relationship, Lorelei felt herself warming to the Valkyrie. Chrissy, though, was obviously moping. “Don’t sweat it, Chrissy. Looks like your Necromancer has decided it’s an ‘undead-only’ day.”
Steffan looked up at that, and the expression on his face instinctively had Lorelei checking the statuses of her cooldowns. What was going on with him! “Anything you want to share, Steffan?” Lorelei asked.
There was a pause during which – and this might have just been Lorelei’s imagination – she could swear she could feel the ground shift beneath her feet. Almost as is seven pairs of cheerleader hands were flexing, preparing to drag her underground.“No,” he finally said, his voice flat. “Nothing to share.”
***Help Message***
Look, I’m the last person to want to get involved in inter-team dynamics, but you’ve only just got rid of one viper in the cradle. How about you take a beat before choosing yourself another nemesis . . .
“He’s really sunshine incarnate today, isn’t he?” Chrissy said, half-joking, though it was clear to Lorelei – as somewhat of a connoisseur of such things - she was putting on a brave face. “Come on, love, if you don’t cheer up, I’m going to start thinking you’re avoiding me.”
Steffan didn’t respond, turning back to the spot on the floor he’d been staring at.
“Don’t take it personally,” Lorelei said. “That last fight took a lot out of us all. It’ll take a bit of time for it to settle.”
Chrissy put on a heartbreakingly fragile smile. “Sure. I guess even Necromancers have off days.”
A silence settled over the group as they chowed down on their ruinously expensive takeaway, each of them lost in thought, their minds half in the moment and half lingering on the aftermath of the obstacle course. The raucous noise of the crowd around them was a reminder that life carried on. Although, by the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the audience, it sounded like not every team was going to have that option . . .
***Head’s Up Message***
Before you get too self-congratulatory about stumbling your way through the most basic of challenges, you might want to keep in mind that Round 2 will be starting up shortly. And your team is down a Healer . . .
Well, there was that . . .
“We should take the opportunity to stock up,” Lorelei said to the others. “Apparently, this is just going to be a short hiatus.” She frowned at that. “Actually, does anyone know what the rules of this fucking competition are?”
The Goblin vendor’s eyes went blank as if a trigger phrase had been used, and it started declaiming.
“The tournament begins with an obstacle course designed to eliminate teams clearly lacking in, ah, survivability,” it said, tapping a dirty fingernail against the counter. “Passing teams receive a prize. Then, we move on to a series of seeded knockout rounds, ordered by each team's time on the course. To avoid . . . slaughter, teams are moved into brackets.”
Its eyes flicked to the left for a moment. “Your team is currently the second slowest. Only one team ranked below you: the Dust Worms. But . . .” Another flick to the left. “Your team lacks a name. For tracking purposes, I’ll assign one. You’ll be registered as . . . the ‘Useless Drags.’ First knockout round starts tomorrow. If no other teams post a slower time, the Dust Worms will be your opponents.”
They all waited to see if there was more to be said.
Pete suddenly let out a laugh. "Well, least there’s a bit o’ benefit te us bein’ proper shite, like."
Zorrobar nodded. “We actually might have a chance if we’re up against people who struggled more than us with the course.”
Michael and Michelle shook their heads in unison. “We are under-level compared to anyone else here. We do not know if it will matter how slow they moved through it. They will be stronger than us.”
***Prod Prod Prod Message***
And you are missing a Healer. Did I mention that?
Lorelei dismissed the message. One problem at a time.
“How about we see if we can find these ‘Dust Worms’ and have ourselves a quick appraisal,” she said. “Better the devil you know, and all that.”