Chapter 13: Yolo the Luminous Llama

“Can I drive?” asked DarkNeon.

“If you can, it would make one of us,” I said.

“This is so cool!” she said, hopping into the captain’s seat. “How did your master get this?”

“Master?” I said. “No. More like a burdensome guide.”

“Aha,” she snapped her fingers, “so you are linked to a player.”

“Congratulations. Your powers of deduction amaze.”

“Pretty snarky for a one hit kill skele, ain’tcha?”

“Imagine your demeanor if you were in my proverbial shoes.”

“I’d like to,” she said, another strange gleam of fascination in her eyes, “so tell me what you are.”

I stared ahead through the car glass, quiet.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” she said. “These Gremlins are rare. I’ve only seen a few. Either I can start asking around, telling everyone I know about a talking player pet, or you can answer my questions. How long do you think it’ll take to find out who your player is? Spirit mage, owns a Gremlin, has a [Grim, Dim Purple Coat], skeleton minion found near Dreen, et cetera. I’ll tell them you just got a quest item called [Eld Rib] and a [Grave Buckle]? That oughta narrow it down. Don’t make me go full Sherlock on you, Bony Buns!”

“You promised to keep my secret safe,” I retorted.

“I said ‘your secret’s safe with me,’” she said. “And it is, as long as you tell me it. Gotta know it to keep it, ya know?”

I needed to prioritize leveling up. I grew weary of forced acquiescence due to lack of personal agency. But for now…

“I inhabit the skeleton of a quest creature called Gnarlroot the Eld,” I said.

“Okay? I’d already pieced together something along those lines.”

“My mage ‘associate’ razed my oak tree to the ground, doing some strange magic with lightning and bones and vines. And now, here I am.”

“Hold up,” she scratched her head. “What do you mean ‘inhabit’ the skeleton?”

I sighed. “I do not know. The mage and I are working through my questline to learn more. I am missing bones. As we find more, I learn more. The bones bring back memories. But the quest is broken. The mage thinks a guild called Telemoon holds blame.”

“Oh man, I hate those guys,” she said. “If you guys are trying to deal with Telemoon, I’m totally in. Wait, so did the [Eld Rib] give you memories?”

“In a way, mayhap,” I said. “Before reuniting with it, my concept of ‘being in a game’ was foggier. I have an inkling of what a ‘player’ is now. Perhaps I once was one?”

Her eyebrows quirked.

I conjured my scapula tablet. “And I can almost read this thing. Still mostly looks like gibberish, though.”

“No,” she said, “back the truck up. You expect me to believe you’re not a human controlling this skele?”

“Maybe I am?” I said. “But I exist only in game.”

“Yeah, right.”

“The burden of proof is yours. I have spoken honestly.”

“Whatever dude,” she said, getting out of the car. “If you’re gonna lie to me, then I won’t help. Bye.”

She performed a series of hand movements, and light bent to envelop her. She vanished in a glimmer.

I heaved a bone-sigh. “I can take you to my graveyard? Show you my tree’s charred stump? You can talk to Belvan, Antonia, Ol’ Hap Emerson? If any remain.”

I remembered the bone ritual and my ghostly neighbors’ betrayal. But the thought of my missing toe made me wonder. I felt a sudden urge to visit; to find out which of my denizens had remained loyal. That, and it was a known location of a missing bone. More bones, more clues.

“I’ll let you drive the Gremlin?” I called out.

DarkNeon materialized. “Fine,” she said. “Nothing better to do. And if you’re not lying… I’ll go along with it for now.”

“Charming,” I said, waiting.

She climbed back in and attempted to work the control panel.

After several minutes of watching her fumble around with the buttons and dials, she smacked the helm wheel with her fists. The machine’s engine was still asleep.

“Oh well,” she said. “Too good to be true. Figures. The mount’s bound to your master or something.”

“I am my own master,” I reminded her.

“Clearly. So now what, then?”

I contemplated the wisdom of divulging more than necessary.

“There’s a ring I need,” I said. “With it, I can wander quite far. Without it, my range is limited.”

“Sounds like you’re totally the master of your own destiny here.”

“And as such,” I said, “I am devising ways to decrease my reliance on others. You have come along, with a potential to help me, but I would rather go it alone than rely on the fickle.”

“Hey now. Calm down big guy,” she said. “I’m not fickle. Don’t want to waste my time is all.”

“Nor do I.”

“A ring, is it?” she said. “I know a little about spirit mages. Are you talking about a [Hive Scepter Ring]?”

“Mmmm,” I nodded.

She laughed. “I just so happen to be a Gem Crafter! I have tons of rings.”

DarkNeon opened her inventory, grabbed a handful of jewelry, and dropped a tinkling pile on the seat.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

What luck! I rummaged through the rings, viewing their names and stats; [Ring of +10 Fire Resistance], [Ring of +10 Fire Resistance], [Ring of +10 Fire Resistance]…

“Do any look like a scepter ring?” she asked, avid.

“No,” I said, unimpressed. “They look like fire resistance rings.”

“They’re not all fire res. Look, here’s a few +dex rings. Here’s a strength one. There’s some variety. Take a look.”

“They are generic, DarkNeon. I cannot fool the mage with these. I require a true [Hive Scepter Ring] or a convincing replica.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well… can’t blame me for trying to make use of my leveling duplicates. How about this?” She opened her light-themed tablet and navigated to her Gem Craft menu. “The ring you want isn’t craftable, but maybe one of these looks kinda like it?”

She handed me her tablet to peruse, but I found no convincing look-alike. I shook my head and handed it back. DarkNeon appeared crestfallen.

“I am difficult to help,” I said. “Apologies.”

We sat, contemplating.

“Where’s the scepter, anyway?” she asked. “In the trunk?”

“The mage has it.”

She frowned. “Then how…”

“Apparently my existence without a ball and chain offended the game’s rules, so it made impromptu adjustments to the Gremlin.”

“The car is acting like your scepter?” she asked. “So if the Gremlin is your anchor, then you can’t go far unless we can drive it?”

“Hence inviting you along,” I said. “But it seems you and I are both at a loss.”

“Idea!” she said, taking out an elaborate looking lockpick set. A progress bar appeared above her hands as the rogue got to work tinkering behind the helm wheel.

But instead of the car’s motor rumbling to life, DarkNeon yanked off the wheel from its column.

“Ta da!” she said. “It’s a ring! Here.” She tossed it into my lap and exited the vehicle.

“You jest.”

“Got any better ideas?”

(Error: Player Gremlin mount missing part)

(Missing part detected: [Helm Wheel])

(Missing item detected: [Hive Scepter Ring]. Re-designation initiated. Alternate source: [Spell: Summon Skeleton])

(Re-designation complete)

DarkNeon winked at me.

I did not wink back, but the turn of events pleased me nonetheless.

“Does this game have a luck stat?” I inquired.

“It’s called Charm,” she said, “and yeah. You’re welcome.”

“Color me enchanted. Shall we go?”

“We can take my mount. There’s room for two.”

I held the helm wheel, trying to decide what to do with it. It was too big for coat pockets, and its spokes prevented me from getting it over my skull to wear like a collar. My vine fingers entwined the wheel while I thought.

I looked to the Light Rogue and shrugged.

“Use your vines, maybe?” she shrugged, too.

“Tis a ‘helm,’ after all,” I said. “Mayhap I’ll wear it here.” I placed the [Helm Wheel] behind my skull, to rest on my shoulder blades. I invested a free skill point into [Spell: Regen II] and cast it, directing neck and shoulder vines to rip through my coat. They entwined the wheel behind my coat’s hood, which remained over my brow.

“I like it,” DarkNeon said, rubbing her chin. “Makes you look like a spooky Byzantine mosaic.”

I glanced in the Gremlin’s window to see my blurry reflection. I considered it an improvement.

“Right then,” I said, “you spoke of a mount?”

DarkNeon grinned and retrieved a pouch. Loosening the tie string, she brandished a little bushel of wheat tied with a glowing string of jingle bells. She shook her [Luminous Wheat & Bell Pouch] and a golden-fleeced llama materialized, munching dry grass in moments.

“Meet Yolo,” said DarkNeon, “my Luminous Llama. Dassa good girl…”

The Light Rogue cooed and coddled the beast as I looked it over, skeptical.

“You say it will seat the both of us?” I asked.

“Depends,” she said. “She’s supposed to fit me and one other player. Let’s see if the game thinks you qualify.” She motioned to the animal’s saddle.

I hesitated.

“Need a boost?” she said, linking her fingers down low like a stirrup.

Though I mourned my dignity, I accepted her help, and mounted the llama. The rogue leapt up in front of me.

“We’re in business!” she said, spurring the beast into action. “Hi-ya!”

We rode up and over the grassy hill, back onto the road. I saw a scuffle underway in the distance, like little insects kicking up dust. They were blocking the entrance to Dreen.

“Probably just some people dueling,” said the Rogue. “So what’s it gonna be? Graveyard or shops first?”

“I left something behind in my yard,” I said. “I need it.”

“Alright. I dunno if I could fend off questions anyway. Better to avoid town till your disguise gets an upgrade.”

“Aye.”

“So….?” she said, poking around on her tablet screen. “Maybe Gnarlroot Hill, I’m guessing?”

I realized then that I was unsure what roads the Mage had taken after departing my yard.

“Of course,” I said. “Yes. Where else?”

“Cool, let’s go. Hi-ya!”

~<>*<>*<>~

The Realm’s sun had arched beyond mid afternoon as we drew near. We crossed some unseen threshold, and a familiarity took hold of me.

“I’ve always enjoyed the color palette of this zone,” said DarkNeon over her shoulder. “It’s like they figured out how to make gloomy feel cozy.”

I looked to my map to see how far we had traveled. The llama cantered at half the Gremlin’s speed, and the vast scope of the Realm dawned on me. We had moved little in comparison to the map’s size, but I felt like my graveyard could appear behind each new bend of the road. We were close.

When Gnarlroot Hill came into view amidst the swampy evergreens, it took several moments for me to recognize. This graveyard had an old, gnarled oak sitting atop a hill in its center, just like mine used to. I peered harder, discovering it was my tree; my precious Spirit Oak was alive and well!

How could it be? And my iron fence; it was taller!

DarkNeon halted Yolo on the road’s shoulder, a healthy distance from the gate. There were several players gathered there, arguing.

I ignored them, scanning my yard for details. My lovely tree was its usual dark and imposing self, but there were several crypts and small mausoleums where before there were none. It was as if my yard had grown or expanded in my absence. How?

“I think those guys are spirit mages,” said the Rogue. “Lemme go talk to them. You should probably wait here?”

I imagined four Azwolds arguing amongst himselves and agreed to wait without hesitation.

“Observe,” I pointed to my foot. “I need that toe. It is in there.”

“K. Lemme go scope it out. BRB.”

As she strolled to the feuding mages, I returned my attention to my yard. I longed to embrace my tree, to inspect every inch of my yard. It was a peculiar feeling, to experience such longing from outside my fence.

I saw none of my yard’s denizens, which was not surprising. They had bargained with Azwold to be set free. Or had they? My tree had burned to ash, yet now she stood?

I watched DarkNeon chat with the mages, and I grew impatient.

At long last, she returned.

“Okay, Mr. Skeleton,” she said. “Looks like this location is down for repairs.”

“Elaborate.”

“You were right, I guess. The quest is acting up, and they had to rope it off entirely till they figure it out.” She lowered her voice, “No spirit mages can get [Spell: Summon Skeleton] until they figure it out. Your friend might’ve been the last to get this far. I wonder…”

“I must search the yard,” I said. “Now.”

“You can’t,” she shrugged. “Can’t climb the fence. There’s a big ol’ pad lock on the gate and there are signs.”

“What do the signs say?”

“Um, that the quest and graveyard are off limits till further notice,” she frowned. “You don’t see stuff like this often. It reminds me of player housing under construction. It’s rare for them to close stuff on the live servers because they usually handle this kinda thing during scheduled maintenance.”

“Kill me, then,” I said. “I shall go in spirit form.”

“Won’t work. You know what? What if the game thinks of you as both ‘player’ and ‘minion’?”

“So you believe me then?”

“I don’t know what I believe, but I’m gonna try to suspend my disbelief at least. For now. But my point; what if the game is turning your graveyard into a weird version of player housing?”

“I have dwelt here centuries, Rogue,” I said. “It is my home.”

“See, it’s precisely that kinda thinking that makes me wonder. The game seems confused about you, which is sensible. You’re weird AF. But the game reacts to you, to things you do. It makes changes, doesn’t it?”

“I believe so, aye.”

“What if how you view yourself alters how the game categorizes you?”

“Finding lost bones boosts my self-esteem,” I said. “Let us do more of that. Though, I am curious what you mean by ‘player housing?’”

“Player housing is progressive in nature. You build 'em up over time, decorating, adding rooms, collecting trophies, building furniture. You get the idea.”

I lost track of the Rogue’s words when the malady suddenly gripped me. I reached up; the helm was still in place. I harkened back to Azwold’s warning about scepter range.

“What is the hour?” I grunted.

“Huh?” she said. “It’s like 5-ish. Why?”

I looked at my hands. My spirit form was seeping out, tenuous wisps like lavender smoke.

I gazed through iron bars and saw a lone spirit floating near my tree. Ol’ Hap Emerson.

He was lost, confused, lonely. Poor Hap. I called to him through gritted teeth, but my voice was fading. My sounds reached him as if from a great distance. He looked around, seeing nothing. But I saw something… he was fidgeting with a toy. My toe. At least spectral hands cannot worry a bone down to a nub.

My concern evaporated as my essence was ripped from my skeleton.

In a candle snuff moment, I fell into an empty slumber.

Darkness.