Split again into two parts. Happy reading!
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“Ah! Its good to be alive!”
A burly, heavily-armored player wiped beer foam from his mouth. In the short time Winter knew Dougal, Winter found that he was a gentle giant. Never mind that he was scary as hell when he was in combat.
Everyone around Winter cheered and began toasting each other. They dedicated a toast to Winter too, as he had sort of saved their asses. While making his way to the exit, Winter bumped into the party of twenty or so being cornered by the orcs. Quite epic, really. They were against several hundreds.
Winter had no particular reason for helping. He just did. Raising Stone Coffins to provide some cover from heights, Winter allowed the ragged party to regroup and push back, eventually winning the battle by attrition. He might have gotten nothing but skill proficiency from the rescue. Regardless, he was satisfied.
He was satisfied with parting at the exit. They hoisted him over their heads and carried him to the Tavern and sat him down, buying him rounds of drinks. After some dedication to their fallen comrades (apparently they lost a little over half their number before Winter came to the rescue), they began toasting.
The round of toasts done, everyone began getting rowdy on their own. The mages that survived promised to learn the Stone Coffin spell (in a very loud manner). While everyone was still busy getting attention from everyone around them, Winter chose to make a quick exit, claiming that he was going to the washroom (which surprisingly worked).
Winter picked up a weird vibe from Narwin, the leader of the guild and one of the survivors. Some guild members that whispered around him seemed to be a little too secretive to his liking. Call it an old man’s intuition, if you would.
It was already night. Yet Winter felt it was time to depart. Nighttime travel suited him better nowadays. Less players to meet, more mobs to kill. Out of idle curiosity, Winter walked to a dark corner between two buildings and tried to drop down his whole pants. He could not work the strings.
‘Figures.’
Massaging the center of his crotch though, he certainly felt something there.
‘Huh. I don’t know what to think now.’
Shrugging to himself, Winter walked out of the alley and began making his way to the exit he was looking for. It was not hard to find, even for someone with sub-par sense of direction, as at one side, loomed the Mountain of Sorrow in the background. Heading to the opposite direction, Winter would continue heading inland, eventually reaching Arcanum.
Slowly walking to the exit, Winter began taking in the surrounding area. He still could not remember the name of the city, yet it felt quite a lot like old parts of London he had seen from pictures. Stone bridges, paved roads, some stone buildings in strategic corners, with solid wooden ones for the rest. Replace the nighttime gas lamps with torches, and you have the idea of the town Winter was in. It was a contrast to the frontier town he passed through on his way to the mountain. It was as if the other side of the mountain was wealthier. It was larger too, now that he noticed. Winter was right, as the closer to the central, the wealthier the towns were.
“Stop it! Please!”
A female voice spoke loudly.
“Hey! Let go of her, you thug!”
A male voice that followed the distressed female, shouted.
His ears perking up, Winter turned around the corner to see several men lifting up the body of a male, who definitely voiced his disapproval at their treatment. From the distance he was standing, Winter could not see their features of gear properly.
‘What’s going on over there? A robbery?’ Winter’s thoughts quickly went to a nugget had Daniel told him...
He had heard of thugs robbing around town from Summer before. Apparently, Royal Road was not wholly rosy. This, however, was the first time he had ever seen one done so blatantly. The method they used, in a way, was quite creative. No violence was allowed inside the city area. But that rule has a loophole. You could overpower the player inside the city (by using several players with good Strength stat) and using the men, carry the player forcefully beyond the border of the city. What Winter could not puzzle out though, was how they would avoid the murderer’s mark or bypass the guards around the gate. He lost interest after Summer told him it was possible.
Not too long after, Winter saw how they were bypassing the guards. The player in the lead stopped at the gate, chatted with the guards and passed one of them something. Winter assumed it was a bribe.
‘So that was possible. This is some flexible system.’
So five players carried the still struggling player up into the air while the other one forcefully dragging the female outside the city. Winter had closed the gap between them enough to take in their features. He automatically knew that he was dealing with some sort of organisation, at least. All of the thugs wore a green headband, with a dark green vest above a mud brown cloth armor. The female wore a vibrant green dress with her brown hood up. To Winter,it felt that they were doing reverse dress up in a way. He could not see anything of her features (the basic requirement of saving a damsel in distress is to make sure you save a pretty one).
They carried on quickly. Winter followed suit too, soon. Surprisingly, the gate guards gave him no trouble, even wishing him good hunting.
Winter lost the trail for a little while. After looking left and right, he found a promising lead of grouped footsteps. The most telling clue was the drag marks that he suspected was from the female.
‘Found them.’
Winter dropped to the ground and slowly crawled forward. He supposed he would not be seen until he was really close. It was a pretty dark night, and the monsters around the city were surprisingly, pretty high-leveled, around 80 or so in average, though for odd reason, the mobs within the vicinity of the cities surrounding the mountain only came out during the day. So, no monsters at night close to the city, no players outside at night most of the time. The halfway point to the next town was where the monsters started appearing again.
A sense of deja vu crept upon him. He had crawled like this too, once, when he was stealing a cart full of fish. Winter shook his head and continued crawling slowly. Eventually, he reached the distance where he could hear the hooded girl pleading with the thugs to leave them alone.
“Please! Just leave us alone! Why are you doing this?”
Somehow, from the distance of over ten meters, on almost moonless night, Winter could see that the girl had snow white skin.
‘Great. I must be too lonely if I can see a girl’s skin tone from that distance.’
Note: Winter knew he was just wishing the skin tone to be snow white. It’s always fun to imagine that he was saving a beautiful damsel than an average-looking one or worse. (Apologies from the author for any outraged females. But we men are a little discriminating when we are supposed to risk our necks)
While Winter was contemplating on the girl’s skin tone and how smooth-looking it supposedly was, the four thugs had deposited the male player they were hoisting over their head, and had surrounded him. Winter could only speculate what the player was saying, as he was speaking very rapidly and very loudly.
“LETGOOFMEYOUTHUGS! ATLEASTLETHERGO!”
“SHUT UP!”
A blow landed on the captured male. Unlike real life, where such a blow would daze someone for a while, this only served to make him more chatty. Finally, the one who seemed to be the leader, made the right call. He stopped his underlings from landing more blows, opting to wait it out.
As none of them were in any immediate danger, Winter took the time to guess how long the noisy male would keep ranting.
After five minutes of listening and no sign of stopping, the thugs were doing fine. Winter? He had had enough of the noise, enough to turn his ears blue. He was amazed that they never attracted anyone else around the area.
‘This is becoming bothersome. It’s like listening to your noisy neighbor!’
When Winter stood up, it startled everyone since he got within six meters of them. Everyone turned to his direction.
“Finally! I cannot believe how long you can rant!” Said Winter in exasperation.
“You! What are you doing there! Were you listening in on us?”
“So what if I am? Don’t let me stop you. I will go back to town now. See you.”
Winter cut off whatever the thug leader was about to say and began turning to walk away. He managed to take three steps before someone spoke up, so startled were they.
“Wait a second here. You want to just walk away?”
Winter looked over his shoulder. He did not catch whoever said it. He would guess none but the bossman there had the brain capacity for a good comment. Therefore, he addressed his reply accordingly.
“Yes. You have a problem?”
“No. But…. Aren’t you supposed to… you know…”
Bossman there was fumbling for words. Winter helped to supply it.
“Save them, you mean?”
“Yes! Save them!”
“I was going to. But that man over there was too damn noisy. Her, I will save anytime.”
Aside from counting the minutes away, Winter also spied the visage of the girl he intended to save. She was a fair beauty, though she could use a few more years of maturing. She was even younger-looking than Celine, though slightly taller. A lot of her physical features were obscured by the flowing dress and robe she wore. Winter’s best guess, she had a lot less exercise than his wayward (adopted) daughter. Winter knew that the physical appearance of an avatar was dependent on the owner’s preference and could be very deceiving. But he could not help but wonder how someone could create a such a combination that would result in a weak-looking avatar. Her male companion had done much better, being a tall, brown-haired, lanky man, with equally brown eyes.
There was something about weak-looking girls though, even in-game. It sparked the protective instinct of males.
She had been quiet throughout the whole conversation. If Winter had snow white hair and piercing blue eyes the shade of cold winter, this girl had eyes blue like a calm lake. He started inside suddenly, realising that with the combination of her silvery white hair, smooth facial lines with a marked sharpening near the jaw line, both of them could be family, provided he had married an Eastern European.
‘Quit looking at me that way! I want to walk away!’
‘No! No! Don’t look at her! Don’t look at her! You want to walk away!’
Inside, Winter’s heart and mine were saying their piece.Both of them were telling him to walk away. The two could use harsh lessons in life, which would be useful later in life. You get unlucky in real life, you deal with it. Besides, they would be back after a day of rest.
The small voice that Winter had no idea he even had, however.hhhh balked at the idea of walking away from a girl giving him the helpless gaze. Winter let out a big sigh, his shoulder drooping in defeat. The world was rather twisted in his opinion, that male players would attempt to rob such a sweet, vulnerable-looking girl (nevermind the male companion).
“Anyway, I was going to just walk away. But now I cannot.”
“You are going to fight us? We are a guild. You hurt us, you hurt the guild. And we have hundreds of members.”
Winter paused upon hearing it.
“What sort of guild robs players?”
“Thieves’ guild of course.”
“Of course.” Nodded Winter in realisation.
Winter unsheathed the sword he recently acquired.
Ethereal Clay Sword (Durability 25/25)
Damage: 25-28
A magic sword imbued with the spirit of the ice. Does bonus damage 2-5 to armored target and decreases target movement by 10%.
Restriction:
Level 55
STR 115
Equip: Grants 2-5 Ice damage
He needed to be careful with this sword. Amongst all the equipment loots he had received from the undead, he was left with the cape and this sword. The rest were broken along with his beloved Fossilised Sword from his repeated clashed with Gordon.
Everyone tensed up immediately. Drawn weapons were always a sure sign that some blood would be spilled. The empty grassland was becoming quieter each passing second. The blowing night winds made the grass dance in rhythm.
“Look. I don’t think either one of us wants to get a murderer mark if either one of us got killed by accident. So, how about if we duel or something?”
“A duel you say?”
Bossman was rubbing his smooth jaw. Winter thought the large earring on the left ear was a tad overdone for a thief. Somehow Winter knew the decently handsome face was not his real face. Winter was scrutinised up and down. He tried not to show his own amusement at their assessment. As if bossman found something amusing of his own, he smiled broadly and came up with a counteroffer.
“Alright. Here is my reply. You fight all of us at once, or we still fight you at once. Only you will be dead.”
Winter paused to take it in. The proposed duel offer was thrown to him. It was the first time he had ever tried the Battle Royale rule. Winter believed that the thugs had slightly better gear than him, though he had no clear idea how high their levels were. Instead of getting worried, he was excited at the prospect of fighting all of them at once. He could not get enough of duels recently, and after his first duel with Campbell, he wondered how he would fare in a pure physical fight against another player(s).
“And how do you do it without getting a Murderer’s Mark?” Asked Winter. “I mean, you cannot expect me to die on my own without landing the last hit, right?”
“Of course not. But let’s not find out, eh?”
The pair of hostages were forgotten. They shuffled away to one side. The male one was trying to drag the girl away, but she stubbornly dug her heels.
‘At least one has the decency to see whether I will survive the fight.’
DUEL REQUEST
Rule: Last Hit
Additional Rule: Battle Royale
Do you wish to accept? YES / NO
Participants: 6/7
“I accept.”
Winter had never paid any attention to dueling rules up till recently. He surmised that after his debacle with Campbell, he would eventually encounter more duels. Thus, he thought that it never hurt to be prepared.
Royal Road duels has a lot of interesting rules, apparently. He had spent a little time reading up on them. The more common ones were Half-life, Last Hit and First Blood. Then there are additional rules like Battle Royale and Deathmatch, where the last one, player’s death results in no penalty since it was agreed upon beforehand and risks were accepted. As for betting? Royal Road dueling rules does not allow betting. What he and Campbell did was not unusual though, putting their bets on one side to be picked up after the duel was concluded.
There is no time limit for any dueling, though if all participants are idle for three minutes, it ends up in a draw, regardless of how much health is left on both sides. This freedom allows players to create preparations.
Ten seconds left on the one minute timer, Winter began plotting how he would break through the encircling formation the six had trapped him in. They had daggers in both hands, held menacingly. At one glance, Winter could tell they had more spunk than skills, always relying on their numbers for success.
The key to any fight when you were surrounded was always the same, whether they were two or two hundred. You made the enemies face you so that you only needed to worry about one side.
‘There.’
It took Winter four seconds to find one overly eager thug that was more than a little eager to jump forward and shred Winter to pieces. After Gordon, Dullahan and regular Death Knights were no challenge. Sloppy players?
Winter never had the chance to finish the fight as the seconds ticked to Zero.
DUEL STAR!
“Behind you!”
Called a female voice from a far off distance. Winter’s world was narrowing to the four enemies he could see, with two around his blind spot. Mentally activating Reflex, he whipped around quickly, with his sword following in an almost blurry motion. The world slowed down enough for him to adjust his motion so that his sword would cleave one of the two opponents behind him. They were so slow compared to Gordon’s unnatural attack speed, that Winter thought he could have probably done it without any spell assistance.
‘Might as well get fancy.’
With half a second ticking, his Clay Sword was nearly upon his ambusher’s head, only centimeters away. Their tactic was pretty sound, and they were probably well-practiced. It also meant they were predictable. The two thugs lunging with their daggers forward, whether they hit or not, would be followed by the rest.
Winter had the satisfaction of seeing the second thug flinch when his sword smashed into his friend’s face. The first one never even saw it coming, his head thrown back from the impact of the sword that sliced through his nose and half his head, and continued traveling down his neck. It also allowed the second thug a little time to dodge, which was why instead of getting a decapitation, if it was even possible in Royal Road, he received a deep neck slash. But Winter was not done yet.
Continuing his spin, Winter finished his rotation. Others didn’t have better luck than the two. They were lunging towards him as he predicted. Their weapons though, were outranged by at least a foot. Not wasting anymore time for contemplation, Winter finished a three spinning slash, cleaving through chests, torsos, legs and feet.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Arvin out of combat!
Kerrick out of combat!
Eddestell out of combat!
Scutleist out of combat!
Critical Strike!
680 Damage inflicted on Fiel
350 Damage inflicted on Daffy
There were more messages above, close to two dozen in total. Since the system window was a little too small to accommodate them all, only the above ones were visible.
Bossman Daffy was pretty quick on his feet. Among the six, Winter only managed to get a single hit in, the torso strike. Ending his three spinning slash motion, Winter finished up Fiel, who was off balance from losing his right foot, with a diagonal upward slash from his kneeling position. The grass around him was mowed down in a neat circle due to the slash. If one looked from the outside, they would see that outside the perfectly circular mowed grass, there was a radiating small circle of grass, blown back from the rapid spinning effect.
Fatal strike!
1260 damage inflicted on Fiel
Fiel out of combat!
Time sped up to regular speed, as Reflex ticked off to zero among sprayed blood and limbs. Winter felt really kickass when he saw the rather cowardly male’s brown eyes looking like it was about to pop out, his mouth hanging slack-jawed. The silver haired girl was not doing much better, though she looked more awed by his performance than shocked.
Bossman Daffy? He was not out of danger yet, though he probably realised that he was outmatched this time. Served him right. He needed to eat some humble medicine for once.
“How….”
He was hesitating to proceed with the duel, as he had just witnessed his comrades being taken out in two seconds flat. Royal Road’s attack damage conform quite a lot to real life in a way. Your weapon damage could be pretty low, but you have multiplier effects ranging from catching enemies unaware, to inflicting extra damage when you hit an important part. Overall, Winter’s damage was probably multiplied over ten times its normal damage and some, after combining it with his passive Sword Mastery that was doing an extra 80% damage.
Breathing in and out slowly, Winter answered flatly.
“Practice and a lot of practice. Seems like you lack a lot of those there, Bossman.”
The wounds on Daffy’s torso was emitting white vapor from the ice damage. It would slow him down quite considerably for about twenty more seconds. More seconds ticked away from Daffy’s inability to comprehend what had just happened.
Stepping out of the perfectly made circle, Winter’s foot stepped through one of the thug’s torso, instead of encountering the expected resistance. It made him stumble, which was when Daffy took the opportunity to rush forward. Out of pure instinct, Winter corrected his stance to a forward stabbing motion that missed by a narrow margin. He was about to jump away from the expected knife slash when, like always, the world of Royal Road delivered to him the unexpected.
Instead of Daffy attacking Winter, the gathering green glow that had accumulated on the thug’s heavy broad-bladed daggers when he was distracted, was aimed at Winter’s sword in a scissoring motion. The double edged daggers cut through his sword in a precise, practiced motion. Unknown to Winter, the Rogue branch of profession had a <
Winter’s Clay Sword had already lost over half its durability from his two seconds rapid abuse. It probably would had survived if the battle had progressed as per normal. Weapon Break ability was not known to Winter. Until now.
“My sword! What had you done!”
His cry of anguish at his broken blade were echoed with jeers and laughs from the downed thugs. This was another piece of information that Winter did not know about Battle Royale system, as he had never bothered to read about it. Out of combat players could not be in contact at all with any players still battling. Combined with inattention and pretty bad lighting, Winter did not see the grayed out texture of their avatars.
“What happens to a swordsman without his sword?”
Winter looked up from the broken end of his sword. Bossman Daffy gloating at his misfortune.
“Of course, they lose!”
One of the legless thug answered from the ground. Others raised their hands in cheers of agreement.
Winter supposed he was responsible for the misunderstanding. But it was getting old for him to tell everyone that met him that he was not a swordsman! Beside, he was mighty unhappy now that he had to find a new sword!
Exchanging weapons were allowed during a duel, but not using any consumables. Unarmed swordsman lose their attack speed bonus from their swordsmanship passives, though they still could do a considerable damage due to their stats. They could be slower by as much as 30% without their sword. (Due to weapon masteries)
Daffy would not allow his opponent the time to open up a window and pull out another sword, however. That was why he was flustered when Winter did not attempt to grab another sword. He was watching for the telltale finger twitch, and planned to exploit the moment of vulnerability.
Watching his sword scatter into white glittering pixels, Winter stalked forward to the still gloating Daffy. The circle of grey textured non-combatants followed his steps with further catcalls of ‘give it up’ and ‘you will lose’. Out of the corner of his eyes, Winter spied the tall lanky male trying to drag the silver-haired girl away. She was noticeably less resistant this time, which was why they had made considerable progress. They were already over ten meters away.
Fuming at his loss, Winter focused his fury at Daffy, who took a ready stance, expecting Winter to throw some last ditch effort. Of course, Winter could wait out until three minutes and get a draw. But three minutes of indignity, being chased around like a duck, was not his style. He still had to deal with him after the duel was concluded, anyway.
“Flaming Fist.” Whispered Winter so softly, that nobody else around him could hear it.
The offshot of Fireball spell he discovered, the fires cause minor additional damage. It was Winter’s trademark for when he was about to duke it out with his bare hands. As Daffy had never seen such a spell before, it disconcerted him.
“Ready for round two?”
Winter and Daffy stood a meter apart. Fists on fire against a pair of daggers.
“Y..You should give it up. I, I will deal with you mercifully.” Daffy spoke the words as if by rote.
Winter was not angered easily. But the recent crap he had taken in the game was not doing his psyche any good. He needed to vent. He thought dueling could do the trick. It worked, after a fashion. Demolishing his TV set worked too. But imagining his fists pummelling another human’s face? THAT would be BEYOND satisfying.
Daffy had probably picked up the air of menace from Winter’s stance and gaze. Winter clenched and unclenched his fists. The fires flared up slightly everytime he unclenched them.
There was no more need for words. He was going to beat Daffy to a pulp. No question about it. But Winter had always been a planner with cunning. Even when seeing red, he still waited for Reflex to finish its cooldown cycle. And now it was done.
While Winter was standing quietly, unmoving aside from unclenching his fists, Daffy was getting more and more nervous with every passing second. The hands that were holding the daggers shook noticeably now, though he tried to hold it steady.
‘I am going to die! He is going to kill me! I should just surrender now!’
By nature, Daffy and his comrades were cowards. The saying of ‘No Honor Among Thieves’ still holds true, even in Royal Road. The first rule that any thief learns is to expect to get left behind when things go wrong. Comradeship be damned.
Daffy was about to speak up, announcing his surrender, when Winter’s eyes gleamed in the night, like twin Will O’wisps. Daffy never got beyond saying the first syllable.
xXx
Rinne kept her hood up out of sheer habit. It was one habit that was so ingrained in her, that even in Royal Road, she was unable to break it. A shawl was what she used in real life. Her right hand fidgeted around the edge of the hood, as if the covering was inadequate. She was still taking in attention anyway, since locks of silver white hair spilled from inside the hood. She was clueless to the idea that men would attempt to uncover what was hidden from sight, thus, she was thinking that there was something wrong with her.
She was less worried about the sights she drew today, as she was following a very grouchy mature-looking player in front of her. Rinne had been playing Royal Road for slightly over two months (real life time). She had made no real friend but the one constant companion currently looking very sullen behind her.
Unlike her, he went by his real first name. Samuel. They contrasted with each other, personality-wise. If Rinne was shy and reserved, Samuel was the epitome of loudness and stubborn will. Which was why he was taken aback when his constant companion was following a man that had beaten up another man within an inch of the latter’s life, though the latter was probably already up and about now, since this was virtual reality, and not real life. Both of them were scared witless of Daffy, who was known to them despite then having only stayed two weeks so far in the border town of Laiven. It was galling to him that extortion and protection racket could exist in a game world. His refusal to pay, which Rinne was not against from the very beginning, finally culminated in him being bodily carried out to the city, and Rinne being dragged along.
“Rin! Can we please stop?”
Rinne was not giving any reply. Her mouth was moving around, forming soundless words.
Samuel groaned. He knew that look. Rinne was utterly focused when she was like that, ignoring everything else around her. Her fidgeting hands though, was a sign she was not totally disconnected from the (virtual) reality yet.
Samuel raked his brown hair. He had no idea whether Rinne’s real life body looked like her avatar. His did, for the large part. Both of them were inseparable comrades due to their mutual problem of disability. It was as if chance had bent its will to allow them to meet.
He was wondering what she was so engrossed about. He only knew it was related to the sole winner of the six versus one battle, where after spending ten minutes pounding Daffy to dust with fiery fists, the fickle stranger told them to scram before he chose to kill them.
If they had heard the story from someone else, Samuel would be laughing his head off. Daffy was infamous among the players within the town. Both Samuel and Rinne had discovered that pretty quickly when they entered the town. So when they saw him getting pounded to the ground while begging to be let off, it was very satisfying, though at the same time, horrifying.
They had been following the stranger for three hours now. At least Rinne was. Samuel just wanted to forget that the night ever happened. It had left a bad taste in his mouth, that at first, he was about to be saved, then his savior changed his mind and only wanted to save Rinne. What sort of half-assed rescue was that!
Grumbling his dissatisfaction along the way, they followed the white-haired swordsman around the weapon sellers. Daffy had broken his sword and had paid for it dearly. But it was ridiculous for the player to spend three hours looking at swords! Some vendors the stranger visited was not even a sword seller. Samuel knew that a player’s equipment was quite intimate to the player. Two stores and seven vendors later, he was still looking. Because it was a border town close to a grand dungeon, sellers of all types congregated around.
Samuel supposed that he should let Rinne have her moment of stubbornness. His companion had been so agreeable all the time that he always joked she needed to be more assertive. This was the first time she had ever used the privilege.
xXx
Winter was in a foul mood. Daffy had broken the only sword he could use. A good non-iron sword was hard to find. Therefore, he was very pleased that he found a weapon, an upgrade from his previous one, which had come from a dungeon. The last three vendors had given him funny looks when he wanted a sword without any Iron in them. Two carried none and the magic shop carried only staffs and wands. The weapon shop had none too. Only a player stocked some weapons without any Iron. A pure Mithril blade was way above his wealth to purchase, not to mention the crazy restrictions.
He knew that the girl he had saved was trailing behind him, together with the loudmouth. In his fit of anger, he had completely forgot about them. He was too busy giving Daffy a serious pummeling. It was satisfying, but not even close. He was tempted to simply kill them off until the tiny voice of logic got through him. A murderer’s mark was a pain to remove. He knew that much. So if he had to kill a player, he had better have a good reason other than the player breaking his sword. It was a close call anyway.
He spotted a green bandana, and his thoughts immediately leaped back to the duel. The nervous- looking Daffy, the cheering that stopped when he had put Reflex in gear, threw a solid punch to Daffy’s jaw to stun, then sat on Daffy’s chest and kept pounding away on him. Winter realised then that Battle Royale disqualified participants could not interact with players who were still dueling. They tried to pull him off, but their hands passed through him. It made a bizarre picture. Grey textured avatars attempting to pull a player off from atop another player.
Winter shook his head in annoyance. The man was a coward and a bully. Winter was not taken to unusual cruelty. But he made exceptions sometimes.
Spying another sword shop, Winter chose to enter. Maybe he would find it here.
xXx
“I am telling you! It did not go like that!”
Daffy’s voice rose to a whine. He reported back to his guild captain. Swifthand was a guild comprised of players that were not against pushing against the law. A lot of the members were Rogue class characters. But an exception like his Captain, Umber, was not rare. After all, you need not be a thief like him to rob someone.
“Oh? Pray tell. How did it go again?” Spoke Umber in a condescending tone.
It always annoyed Daffy to no end that he was more senior than this upstart and yet placed beneath him. Recently, he had a nagging doubt that he should have chosen another profession. He had never stolen in real life, nor inflicted violence upon anyone. Daffy led an upright life, due to his God-fearing father’s firm hand. So the game was a chance for him to be rebellious.
“Did you not go six on one with this warrior and get beaten, then shamelessly turned tail and run?”
It was accurate. But Daffy refused to take it that way. He preferred to call it a strategic retreat before calling reinforcements (namely Umber), and getting back at the player named Winter. Seemed like one of his underlings had flapped his mouth again. He had a good idea who, but that’s for later.
“Who cares about that now. Will you help me or not?”
Umber’s appearance was of a handsome blond-haired mercenary warrior. He wore brown leather armor, with a claymore as his weapon of choice. Small plates affixed at strategic positions gave the armor an almost rugged look, that suited the mercenary image Umber had. The cruel glint in his green eyes though, let anyone who saw it know that he was not a player that was fond of small talk. To Daffy’s infinite annoyance, female members of the guild were into his appearance. And he was smooth as hell with the ladies, unlike Daffy, who failed miserably.
Umber’s chair was leaning dangerously away from the wooden table he had placed his feet. He was rocking his body back and forth. A mistake would tip him back, and cause him to fall in an undignified manner. He never did fall, though. Daffy knew he was thinking of what he would gain in exchange for helping. That was how the guild worked. Favors or payment when you request help.
“Half of your income for the next week,” said Umber eventually.
“Half! Are you out of your mind!” Yelled Daffy in reply.
“Take it or leave it. But don’t come looking for me when the performance review comes up.”
The statement stopped Daffy dead. Swifthand was a guild of outlaws. Respect has to be earned. How? You earn street credits by showing anyone that went against the guild they should think twice. Being beaten so badly without retaliating would earn him a very possible demotion. It was a pity that he used his only weekly favor to unleash Umber to a disgruntled vendor. He was new in town.
The performance review that determined the standing of the members were two weeks away. Daffy supposed he could live with the short term loss of income, in exchange for regaining his reputation. He could not decide whether he was scared of Umber,or this Winter person, yet. The idea of letting the two duke it out delighted him.
“Deal. Make sure it’s extra painful.”
Umber shrugged his shoulders, a ‘whatever’ gesture. Umber had a reputation of being thorough with his job. Both of them shook on it. Daffy exited the small hut. He had to go back to the city and let out the feelers. It was his job to lure Winter into the open. Another notch on Umber’s belt would not affect him. After all, he wore the red diamond on his head proudly.