Location: [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] in [Quaint City]

Traveler Population: 712

Local Population: 8,239

On a normal afternoon, the tavern would be filled. There were only three in [Quaint City]. One was low key and generally invite only. Another was for Locals only. A place they refused to tell Travelers about so they could hide out in peace without needing to hear about ‘Quests’.

The third was [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] and Traveler owned and run. Most of the time the staff consisted of players using their autopilot feature. They took orders, cleaned up the tables, and cooked accordingly. Autopilot allowed them to earn a small but safe amount of coin to spend on other items.

Id was not like other players. He logged on most every night with one express purpose. His goal was to throw anyone who might be too wild out through the backdoor. Each person got their own name and date put on a board to mark their record flight. So far the furthest victim or patron, belonged to a small girl named Thorny. Her record was seven hundred and sixteen feet with a perfect landing. The resulting high five between Id and Thorny became a work of painted art. It’s mounted on the back door as both amusement and a warning.

Tonight, Id kept an eye on a rowdy group of Travelers. The man in the middle was named KeylessLock, and not very aerodynamic. Id itched from behind the counter in hopes that he could try to set a new record.

“So get this, a guy shows up out of nowhere and hands me a letter,” KeylessLock said. He was holding forth the letter in front of four other Travelers. Each one purchased their mug and food for the night.

“Where were you?” One of his companions said a heavyset woman who looked to be near fifty, by the name of Yolt. All five of them belonged to a local Traveler guild named [WTB an Airplane]. It confounded Locals, but other players found it amusing.

“In the middle of a friggin’ dungeon. You know, the one outside of town that respawns constantly?” KeylessLock completely slurred his words by this point. Most of his guild members turned on their chat systems and casually eyed the text hovering nearby.

“Olaf's Brewery?” Yolt looked grumpy on a good day. She was proud of a permanent scar that lined one side of her face. It served to liven up an otherwise unremarkable face.

“Yeah. I’m down there getting my weekly stash.” KeylessLock holds up a hand and tries to whisper. The mug sloshes liquid around which he barely notices. “And I turn around and bam! This guy with a walking staff and black cowboy hat just gives me a letter.”

“You already said that,” One of the other Travelers says.

“A letter!” KeylessLock happily repeats himself. He quickly gulps down the liquid in his cup and both eyes swim in and out of focus. Seconds pass by and then he smiles before letting out an overwhelming belch.

Someone on the other side of the room claps at the display as Yolt keeps talking. “Okay. Then what? You open it?”

“A letter!” KeylessLock fixates on the same phrase over and over.

“A letter!” A shorter man in their guild says as he rolls his eyes. The short one is named Tim and looks something like a fat friar. Tim turns to the others at the table. His hand goes up then opens and closes like a yapping dog. They laugh.

“What was on the letter, KeylessLock?” Yolt nods to a Traveler behind the bar. She holds up two fingers and mouths at the other player. The autopilot staff member nods and starts running out two new beers.

“A quest. The stupid letter gives me a quest.” KeylessLock says while shaking his head. The man seems woozy and sways happily.

“Wait, so you’re getting your, supplies…” The short, fat friar Tim says.

“A letter!” KeylessLock shouts and burps again. The second one is far less impressive.

“And a guy shows up, was this person a Local, or another player?” Tim presses on through KeylessLock’s fixation upon receiving a letter.

“I swear he was a player. Had this tiny dragon too. I don’t know. Maybe there was more than one. My eyesight was kind of blurry by then.”

“Got anything else?” Yolt asks. The other two at the table spend most of their time talking to each other and ignoring the antics of their guild members.

“He was humming something? I dunno, but here’s the letter.” KeylessLock drops his beer a little too abruptly. Tim manages to save it from tipping over while Yolt chuckles.

“What’s this?” Tim has to jump up to snatch the letter from KeylessLock. The big man tries to stare down at the friar but doesn’t seem able to focus correctly.

“A quest. I told you. From a letter!” KeylessLock looks over at the empty mug he had set down. One of the Traveler staff for [Fine How-do-ya-do Tavern] brings over another drink.

“How many of those are you going to drink?” Tim asks while glaring at Yolt. The grumpy looking woman, with a scar over one eye, puts a finger over her lips to silence Tim.

“All of them,” KeylessLock says. “It’s the only place I can drink.” He holds up another mug in a solo cheer before tilting it back.

By morning, KeylessLock’s character is on autopilot in a ditch. Id was only too happy at the chance to break his record. Sadly KeylessLock did not come with any aerodynamic skills. The player himself sat snoring in his ARC, passed out completely. His quest received from an unknown Traveler wielding a black walking staff and hat was now in the hands of completely different guild members.

Location: [The Lone Tower] in [Ya-dar Mountain Range]

Traveler Population: 0

Local Population: 1 (Or 51)

“How did you arrive upon this place?” The woman speaking was nearly see through. Her body was barely more than a hint of flesh and hair that waved as if underwater.

“Through the window.” The man responded while gesturing over. He had a small black cane tucked under his belt.

There was a window nearby, but it had a glass pane covering it. Getting through could only happen if something broke through. Currently, there were no signs of damage to the window. It made the spirit occupying this tower pause in confusion.

“That’s impossible. There’s no means for any mortal to enter into this abode from the outside.” Her hair waved around as she rushed for the window to look at it. A hand came up in wonder to touch the glass and sparks flew causing the spirit to shrink back in pain.

“Well, I did.” He said. The man was busy looking around. Nothing seemed hostile at this point, but in this world looks and reality were often separate things, especially when in some place new and strange.

He toed around with one foot while the spirit hovered about the room in worry. Everything felt solid enough beneath his feet. The ghostly woman floated through with worry etched across her features.

“You must leave, mortal. You must escape with haste before she returns to see you here.” She clutched both hands together as if in prayer.

“Not until I deliver this letter.” He said while waving a small scroll that had been sealed by a stamp pressed into wax.

“No, you can’t leave anything here, nothing, if you do, she’ll know.” The ghost shook her head which caused the waving hair to flutter all around. If the laws of gravity had applied that much hair would reach midway down her back.

“How long do we have?” The Traveler asked. He looked at an old piano nearby as if it might spring to life and bite.

“Just leave, whatever magic mechanisms whisked you into my home must take you away. Oh Voices, even now, it may be too late.” The ghost dared to get closer, everything in the room started vibrating and she quickly backed away. Something about her proximity to a living person had caused an earthquake.

The man wearing a black brimmed hat blinked a few times at the ghost while chewing a lip. His eyes darted around the room for signs of potential falling objects. Finally, he nodded. “Here. Read it, and then I’ll go.”

“Promise?” She said.

“Cross my heart. I’ll even take the letter if you want.” He tried to smile at the strange ghost creature. This was not his first time meeting such a see through person. There had been others, in a past life.

“Very well, mortal, but we needs be quick. There be eyes and ears everywhere in this abode.” The ghost said.

“It’s okay.” He said while setting down the letter on a fancy looking chair. There was dust and cobwebs upon it that wrapped around the message. Slowly the tower invader backed away with one hand on the cane in his belt.

He looked ready for a fight but unsure where it might come from. The ghost lady ignored these actions and went for the letter. “You flirt with death, foolish mortal.” She said while unrolling the item.

“Constantly. I have yet to actually meet that Voice yet.” He tried to smile reassuringly and stood a little more relaxed.

“Death is not someone you meet, it creeps upon you softly, at most you feel a breath on your shoulder. A whisper in your ear, and then nothing.” Her face looked seriously at the man's. Both eyes flashed a chilling blue that faded once the speech was done.

Then her head tilted down and read the later. The man in the tower stared at the letter in her hands. It was see through and faint like the ghostly woman. In addition, upon the chair sat the original scroll, unbroken and untouched.

Time passed as she read. Finally after feeling bewildered and darting about the room she rushed towards the man again. Only upon noticing the shaking did she regain enough sanity to back up to a reasonable distance.

“Mortal, is this true?” She asked.

“I don’t know. I just deliver them.” He responded.

“Voices above. If it is…” Her eyes lost focus and the chill of blue crawled across them again. Her smile filled with a longing that almost brightened incorporeal cheeks. “No, you must go, go now! Flirt with death in another's home. Not mine!”

“Okay. Goodbye then.” He nodded while looking off to one side. His eyes were focused on something not in the tower.

“Farewell, Voices speed your way and light a path in the darkness.” The ghost said.

“They’ve been kind enough so far.” He gave a small smile that seemed pleasantly tired.

Shaking filled the room again, more violent than before. The ghost and man were nowhere near each other. A look of worry filled her transparent eyes and she clutched both hands together.

“Go, foolish mortal! Go!” She said.

The man nodded, and vanished in a puff of black energy. Still the tower shook.

Location: [Allied Base] in the [Tuu Mountains]

Traveler Population: 218

Local Population: 142

Six people stood in a tent staring down at an unrolled scroll. Words littered down the page and pushed miniature figurines across a small map of the region. The commander, one Lute Strongarm, had been gathering patrol information until just moments ago.

Now she stared down at the scroll along with her second in command, a guardswoman by the name of Uncle Meanface. Uncle Meanface was a female half-ogre that towered over most people. Only around Commander Strongarm did she take one knee.

“Are these orders accurate?” Commander Strongarm gestured down at the scroll. Light armor clinked around. Never did she risk taking any of the gear off. There were too many spies about that would love to put an arrow in her.

“They seem to be. Those is the Queens' Seals.” Said Uncle Meanface. She sounded like a gruff old man, and most of the time she smelled intensely of unwashed pits, despite the heavy cold.

Even now the other people in the tent lifted a flap to let in a chill breeze. Commander Lute Strongarm paid them no mind.

“But this makes no sense. Why would she order us to pull back?” The Commander said. Her voice was far more feminine next to the gruff female half-ogre. Almost anyone’s would be.

“Are there reinforcements? More Travelers? We’re barely holding on to this post as it is.” Another man came up near the first two ladies. He looked down at the letter and map. His fingers traced along one of the routes into northern provinces.

“Two generations of fighting, thousands of our people’s lives lost. It’s only now with the Travelers on our side that we’ve managed to make any headway.” Said another man from the doorway. He stood there huffing in the fresh air as if it were a lifeline. This man did not wear armor but instead had a long white and brown robe on.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“This is preposterous,” The Commander said as her fist crashed onto the table knocking more figurines over.

“I know, Ma’am.” The man said.

“And she wants us to pull back?” Lute Strongarm spun around while waving both arms.

“You read the orders yourself. I don’t pretend to understand what the Queen is thinking, but orders is orders.” The huge half-ogre woman was fairly articulate given the protruding bottom jaw and longer teeth.

“Honestly. If only my brother hadn’t died then maybe someone would have their head on straight.” The Commander stormed around some more.

Two of the six people inside this tent were actually Travelers for opposing guilds. They both wore looks of worry as they tried to transcribe the events to their guild members across the region. While Commander Strongarm had concerns befitting someone who belonged to this world, their concerns were much different. If the Locals pulled out then there was no telling what might happen to this base and all the hunting grounds. The system may yank their resurrection point and any number of other issues.

Or maybe there were hidden quests tied to this change. Both Travelers lit up at nearly the same time.

“Is we following the orders, or is we staying put?” The half-ogre woman, Uncle Meanface asked.

“If we pull out now, then the Travelers will have no supply lines. They’ll hold what, a week? Two?” One of the Local men asked. It was the same person who had traced a scouting line earlier. His fingers ran across a grouping of knocked over skeletons. The man slowly set them back up.

“Travelers is tough. Maybe some of them is able to figure out a better idea.” Uncle Meanface said from her bent knee position.

“Voices, damn those girls. Who delivered this letter?” Commander Strongarm demanded an answer from the half-ogre woman.

“A messenger. Came striding in, didn’t even care 'bout no weather.” Uncle Meanface answered with a gruffer than usual tone.

“Any markings? A flag? Some other emblem? Surely the Queens wouldn’t have sent him alone up here.” The Commander asked. Her own tone seemed to cool the angrier she got. Right now she had managed to reach upset but not outright livid.

“Didn’t seem to care. He was a Traveler too. Moved quick like, vanished from spot to spot. Had a huge black staff.” Uncle Meanface rapidly listed off everything she had noticed of the approaching Traveler.

“Anyone we know?” Commander Lute asked the people about her.

“No.” responded one of the Local men. He stared at his pile of miniature skeleton figurines. His face abruptly sniffed sadly as one of the skeleton figures fell over revealing a broken leg.

“Is this Traveler one of yours?” Commander Lute Strongarm turned to the two guild representatives.

They both checked the air nearby and then shook their heads in nearly perfect unison. “We have no one like you described among our rosters.” And the other guild representative just kept shaking his head sadly.

“Then these orders are suspect.” Commander Strongarm picked up the scroll from her war planning table and read through it once more.

“What is we going to do then?” Uncle Meanface asked her commander. The only woman she acknowledged as a superior in combat.

No answer came forth right away.

Location: Elizabeth Legate’s Home

Traveler Population: 1

Local Population: 1

Liz Legate was pacing around her spacious kitchen. She loved this house simply because of all the room to wander around. It made dealing with situations like the one she was in a bit easier.

“Miss Legate?” A voice abruptly said.

“Yes. I’m still here.” Liz said. Twenty minutes on the phone and this had been the furthest she had gotten. At least this latest representative didn’t act like a robot.

“Thank you for holding.” The representative said. It was enough to make Liz regret her assumption that this person was human. Maybe she was in a foul mood. “I was able to validate your status as Grant Legate’s legal guardian.”

“And? My other questions?” Liz said impatiently while doing another lap across the kitchen floor.

“It took a bit to get anything out of the machine. But after four attempts, I have at least an initial report on the information you wanted.” The representative for Trillium International actually sounded excited to be able to help someone.

“Okay. What does it say?” Liz tried not to grind her teeth. Getting answers out of these people was pure torture.

“I’ll send over the time stamped log, did you want me to walk you through it?” The representative offered. Their voice was controlled and well-paced. All in all they basically sounded like a robot, which only made Liz more upset.

“Yes, please.” She was saying please to a machine, which also annoyed her. “My brother was the one who was good with numbers. I never could get the hang of them.”

“Well, to sum it up, for three weeks, your brother has been playing almost nonstop. There are five character termination occurrences in here, each one self-inflicted according to the damage log.” It said calmly.

“So he’s killing himself?” Liz tried to focus as the floor dropped and everything spun. She sat down in a rush before everything tilted too far.

“In the game, yes.” There was a pause as the representative sounded almost human for a moment. Their next words came out almost as a conspiratorial whisper. “I am required to point out that in game behavior may differ from anything that happens outside.”

“Where does your company draw the line?” Liz yelled into the phone.

“Pardon?” The representative said. There was a questioning tone and almost tangible movement of their head as something shuffled in the background.

“It’s reality in there. To anyone who plays, how does Trillium justify this kind of mental abuse?” Liz had skipped into a complete unleashing of all the thoughts building up in her head. These last few weeks had weighed heavily upon her mind. She was nearly at her limit between trying to understand what her brother was thinking and figuring out how to fix it. Or if she should fix it.

Liz knew one thing, anything that might push her brother over the edge again should be avoided. After cleaning up his last two attempts…

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that. I would need to direct you to…” The representative way saying something that Liz almost missed.

“Save yourself the effort. I still have power of attorney, I’ll take steps myself if I need to.” She snapped into the phone. Moments later the call was disconnected and Liz sat at her kitchen table, flustered at everything going on.

The biggest thing on her mind was being thankful that Beth had left the house earlier that day. A call like that wouldn’t be good for the young girl's mind.

Liz looked out the sliding glass door that exited her kitchen. The back porch hardly saw any use now that her daughter had grown up. The rails and steps leading down used to scare her so much. There was plastic sheeting that went between the rail posts to prevent someone small from slipping out.

Beth seemed okay now, but her brother, her slightly younger twin brother, was in danger as well. To Liz, restricting Grant’s access to Continue Online was like putting plastic between the porch rails to prevent someone who didn’t know better from falling.

“I’m sorry Grant, but I think you need to come back to reality.” Liz muttered to herself while sipping lukewarm coffee.

Location: [Camp Grey Skull]

Owned by guild: [Valhalla Knights]

Traveler Population: ~185

Local Population: 13

[Camp Grey Skull] actually sat on one side of [Broken Mountain Pass]. It was a major supply line that their guild controlled to keep things peaceful. The constant quests and skill ups for joining caravans didn’t hurt either.

They got away with controlling the pass by having the highest rank warrior in the game as their guild leader. She didn’t have to do much, or say much, but nearly all the old players knew who Shazam was, by name, if not by sight. Messing with her guild, [Valhalla Knights] typically went bad for the offending party.

“Come on, keep moving! We’ll never make it through the pass by nightfall!” A very hairless man stood up on a ledge. A caravan filled mostly with livestock pulling carts slowly made its way through the pass' exit, opposite [Camp Grey Skull].

“March people! If you want your bonuses we need to be at least halfway in two hours.” He shouted down at the carriages being driven by a handful of players and computer nonplayer characters. “Two hours! Not two days! Come on, Garfunkle, keep up!”

“You lot are always so lively, Urgot.” A local stood up on the hill with the hairless man. He wore a cowl and two extra scarves to fight off winter's cold.

“Traveler's life, Simion, we need to keep moving.” Urgot wore little in the way of defense against the elements. Many Travelers were the same way after a few months. The merchant Simion often found their adaptability unfair.

“I do always appreciate how you round up a crew to escort us poor traders through. This journey's hard enough on a body.” Simion felt the chill even now. The weather grew far worse higher up the peeks and sometimes snow piled into the mountain's passage.

“Well you know us, always willing to work for coin.” Urgot tried not to smile too much. To the Travelers a reward didn’t mean only coin, there were skill increases and items to be purchased. Occasionally they wanted to get out of their hunting grounds and visit a city.

Some players lent out their autopilots as escorts. It was a simple enough way to pass the time.

“Ever since your group set up camp on the other side things have been a mite more peaceful.” Simion’s teeth chattered just slightly.

“We aim to please.” The hairless man said. His teeth were sharp and often disturbed other people.

“You succeed, Urgot, and that’s fine by me.” Simion pulled the scarf up even more and tried to keep the rest of his face covered. It would take him a month to make the full trip back down south into warmer lands. Even the low valley nearby contained too much chill.

“Oh. You best get down to your coach! I see someone who’s been away from home too long!” Urgot smiled wide and the sharpness of his teeth made Simion blanch. The merchant turned to look in the same direction as Urgot while being thankful most of his face had been covered up.

“Ah, is that The Battle Maiden herself?” Simion said to the rapidly running form of Urgot.

“That it is! Miss Thing! Long time no see.” Urgot, a guild officer in [Valhalla Knights] bound across a chilled landscape towards the tall, bronze amazon. She rocked slowly back and forth atop a [Callibur]

Shazam waved her arm with an exaggerated greeting.

“Oh and that, uh, the smelly guy! Hermes right?” Urgot smiled at the other person riding a [Callibur]. He was nowhere near as smooth with his skills. Only a few months of mostly autopilot time couldn’t measure up to Shazam’s experience.

She put both hands next to her head and pantomimed sleep.

“Autopilot, eh?” Urgot nodded, easily understanding what his guild leader meant. He often did terribly with names and titles, but Hermes stuck out a bit more than the average person.

Shazam gave a single thumb up.

“For how long?” Urgot said. He hastily tried to tuck his teeth away under lips. The effort didn’t raise an eyebrow on either Shazam or Hermes.

She shrugged once. The [Callibur] under her shuddered abruptly but hardly disturbed the Amazonian guild leader.

“Well, alright. If that does it for you. I’ve got an escort to run, I’ll be in chat if you want to talk!” Urgot still felt awkward around her. He had joined [Valhalla Knights] because of Shazam’s prowess in a raid but stayed because they were all good people. He actually got along with nearly all of the guild members.

Shazam put up both hands in a stop motion.

“What? Oh, Hermes has something?” Urgot almost missed Hermes, who mechanically held out a letter. His face showed the barest hint of a smile. “What’s this, a letter? That’s weird. Alright, I’ll read it once I get back on the wagon. See you two later!”

With that, Urgot ran off. He quickly made it to the front of the trade caravan and reviewed the route with other Travelers from the guild. The letter wouldn’t be read for many days.

Hermes didn’t worry though, because the player couldn’t get into his only avatar. Even now he cursed wildly within the walls of his Atrium.