Zone: Central Dewalt
Location: Lemond’s Crossing – Ival’Bochord
Lore: (Specific) Before it was converted into a public library, Ival’Bochord once functioned as the primary guild hall for the Paper Caravan Society. Though they outgrew it many years ago, the PCS ensures the library is stocked with all manner of informative texts and makes them available to resident and traveler alike. Its distinctive clock tower was a gift from the Pucken technocracy and is visible from all over town. There’s something special about that clock tower, though. It never seems to need maintenance, and many have reported feeling a strange, almost otherworldly presence when in close proximity to its inner workings...
Starting Town
Restrictions: None
Shielding his eyes, Vannin squinted up at the clock tower’s eastern face. At this distance, the two arrow-straight hands seemed needle-thin, though he suspected that was little more than a simple trick of their design. Both iron hands were of equal length, only distinguishable by the differing shapes of their tips. A triangle crowned the minute hand, while a hollow circle adorned its mate, providing an interesting visual indicator each time the clock struck a new hour.
Vannin scowled. Only five minutes had passed since last he looked.
“I feel like he’s late.” said D, listing up and down in the air like a boat on the ocean. “And that quest is going to expire if we don’t get a move on.”
“I can’t do that quest myself, D. Group quests either put you up against higher-than-average numbers or stronger than average mobs. No matter which way you slice it, we need people, so we’re sorta stuck at the moment.”
“Wait, I’m confused.” D stilled. “What are we slicing, again?”
Vannin resisted the urge to look up at the clock once more. Nine thirty. Thirty minutes wasn’t really all that late. That’s only like… ten minutes back in the real world, I think? Another player had once informed him that time outside Teravitum passed at a far slower rate, with three game days fitting inside one real day.
That knowledge always bothered him. Why not just design the game with days the same length as normal? Maybe real-world people had trouble sleeping through a night that long. He always felt completely rested with the arrival of dawn, so he couldn’t imagine staying in bed three times longer.
“According to his previous missive, Norik did say to meet him at the base of Ival’Bochord’s clock tower at precisely nine in the morning. Does ‘precisely’ have another meaning I’m unaware of?”
“No, it does not,” he grumbled. “Can you send him another message? Ask him where he is?”
D’s glow dimmed. “Not for a little while. Communication to specific parties through temporary ethereal conduits is limited to once every few hours. For safety reasons.”
“Safety reasons, huh? And what do you suppose would happen if you tried it anyway?”
“Unspeakable things, Master,” it whispered, punctuating its message by shifting to an ice-cold blue.
Vannin rolled his eyes. In this case, he was certain ‘unspeakable’ meant there were no actual words to describe what would happen, because the truth was, the game developers likely wanted to limit that kind of interaction.
“What about Atrea?”
“What about Atrea?” A hulking figure stepped up beside him, blocking out the glare of the morning sun. Atrea folded her arms across her chest, looking him up and down like she was measuring the value of an overripe cantaloupe.
“Hey!” He offered the black-haired Minos an awkward smile and leaned back reflexively, keenly aware that her pointed horns were hovering just a few inched above his hairline. “I sent you a message, but I wasn’t sure if you got it.”
D’s glow whitened. “From what I can tell, it looks like Atrea did receive your message.”
The Minos flinched and warily looked around for the daimon. “You really need to do something about that. That’s creepy as hell.”
D continued. “It doesn’t look like she’s responded to said message, though. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
Vannin rolled his eyes. “Gee, would you?”
With a wide yawn that showed off every one of her avatar’s blunted teeth, Atrea casually scratched the front of her neck. “Surprised I caught up to you. Would have been here earlier, but I’d made an appointment to be a guest on some cat girl’s little stream, and I think we got our times mixed up. I stayed up late waiting for her to log in. Just finished up.”
“Oh,” he said, not really knowing what she was talking about. “I, uh, hope it went well?”
“Very.” She snorted. “I definitely won’t be invited back.”
He squinted up at her, his confusion only exacerbated by her contradictory response. She’s an odd one.
“I have to admit, kid, I was initially hesitant to accept your invite once I read that you had also invited…” She twirled a hand.
Vannin’s expression hardened. Kid again, huh? “Norik?”
“That’s the one. Did I just miss him or something?”
He was beginning to wonder that himself. Situated along one of the city’s major thoroughfares, the streets around Ival’Bochord were almost always awash with activity. Groundskeepers hammered away at broken cobbles and pulled weeds in the wooded park just across the street. Shop owners waved at passersby from their open doorways, calling out to any players who turned to gaze in their direction. A mischievous Puck hastily sketched crude phalluses on the library’s marble facade with a hunk of charcoal, trying desperately to stay ahead of an NPC intent on scouring them away with rag and bucket.
Vannin chewed his lip as he gazed into a nearby alley. Beyond the discard crates and rotting barrels, two pairs of legs stretched out from the wall, jerking with an infrequent full-body twitch. The closest, an emaciated Heem wearing soiled clothing, gripped in his left hand a small glass vial. Even from this distance, Vannin could see the faint metallic pink residue clinging to the inside of the vial, could hear their unabashed moans of ecstasy and intermittent sobbing.
“Vegna addicts,” Atrea grumbled, lumbering up beside him. “See more and more every day. Pathetic, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, barely loud enough for her to hear him. Though a far cry from what he would consider an ‘epidemic’, Atrea was right. More and more players had been taken in by the drug’s euphoric promises, immediately succumbing to its addictive nature. He’d stumbled across more than one in previous weeks, tucked away in some dark corner where they were less likely to be bothered. They were hard to look at, but Vannin found himself growing increasingly curious about their experiences.
Atrea flicked one of her horns with a finger. “Heard recently that Vegna has been directly responsible for the sale of more partial- and full-dive rigs than any other aspect of the game to date. Probably only a matter of time before a video game successfully eliminates the real-world drug trade. I mean, why spend grocery money on a sub-par product when you can get something better for the low cost of a simple monthly subscription?”
Vannin turned his back on the scene playing out in the alley. “Never mind the crippling addiction and near total loss of free will, I guess.”
“Yeah, but...only while you’re logged into the game. I hear the real-world side effects are actually pretty tame.”
Shielding his eyes, he once again peered up at the clock. Sensing the morose shift in his countenance, Atrea did the same. “What is that?” she asked, straightening to her full height. “There, just above center of the clock face.”
He squinted, barely able to make about a vaguely rectangular shape incorporated into the clock’s design. “I can’t tell. It’s too far to see.”
“Wait, I have just the thing.” She pulled a leather-wrapped cylinder from her belt and held it up to her eye. “Is it just my imagination, or does that look like some kind of door?”
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It was neither Vannin nor D who answered.
“Aye. Thar be one of the most inaccessible doors in all of Lemond’s Crossing.”
Atrea took a generous step back from their unexpected visitor. “Norik, why the hell are talking like that? You sound like a mentally deficient pirate.”
Norik shook his fist the clock. “Because what you’re looking at is my personal nemesis, my mortal enemy, my very own… great white whale!”
Twin blank stares regarded him in the silence, but Norik maintained his overly dramatic pose. Audience participation was clearly not one of his requirements.
“You’re late,” said Vannin flatly. “I’ve been standing here for half an hour.”
Norik waved a hand dismissively. “Pssh. It’s only been a few minutes. I rushed back from the Eternal Crystal as fast as I could, but this silly town isn’t exactly designed for ease of navigation! It’s like someone just paved over some old game trails and called it a day. It’s a mess!”
Atrea slipped the spyglass back in her belt. “How do you keep dying in town? Are you really that bad at this game?”
“It’s not my fault! I was sabotaged the first time! My guildmates were supposed to be managing the gear timing while I navigated the clock’s internal mechanisms. Had I known they weren’t, I could have better planned my ascent.”
“And what about this time?”
“I… that’s not…” His mouth flapped uselessly for a moment. “Okay, here’s the thing. I figured THIS time I at least KNEW I didn’t have any help, so I could go into the climb with no illusions.”
“Dumbass.”
“What were you doing in the clock?” asked Vannin.
Norik puffed up like a rooster. “Nothing you unguilded would know anything about. I’d explain it, but you probably don’t even know what a ‘Heroic’ character is.”
Vannin had heard the term in passing, but the foppish rogue was right.
Atrea snorted, unphased by the man’s condescension. “Heroics are nothing special. A few underwhelming perks in exchange for the chance of losing your character. What’s there to know?”
“Hah! Shows what you know. Heroic characters about as close to royalty as you can get as a player. They’re a guild’s most prized possession.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, don’t even get me started on guilds. Just because you come up with some edgy name and get all your friends together in one room doesn’t make your blood turn blue. You’ve a better chance at that by holding your breath. And I wish they would, because I’m tired of hearing about them.”
Norik’s clenched fists vibrated against his thighs. “GUILDS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF TERAVITUM! They’re the backbone of the economy! They help unlock new areas to explore! They’re at the forefront of research and development, discovering new items-”
“Items like Vegna?”
“That’s not fair! It’s not the guilds’ fault that people decide to take controlled substances.”
“No, but they don’t have to flood the market with them, either!”
People walking were starting to look, giving the increasingly loud interaction a wide berth despite knowing full-well the city’s protections prevented any sort of actual physical violence. The additional attention made Vannin nervous for some reason, putting him on display in a way that created an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He started to step away, but – as if suddenly reminded of his presence – Norik stretched out and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back.
“Vannin gets my point. He knows the value of a good guild, don’t you?”
The young man’s vocal cords suddenly refused to budge.
Atrea’s inhuman features added a certain nightmarish quality to her scowl. “What would he know? He’s not in a guild either.”
“Maybe not, but I saw him going into Edacity’s Freshman Lounge yesterday. Either he’s trying to get accepted, or they’re trying to recruit him and he’s interested enough to hear them out.”
Vannin jerked his arm free. “What the heck? Were you...were you following me?”
“You didn’t leave me a lot of choice! By the time I got back to the game, you’d vanished, and Betsy over here wouldn’t tell me where you went!”
“Cow jokes,” Atrea said flatly. “Oh. Wow. Your wit astounds me.”
Norik ignored her. “By the time I caught up with you, it was too late. Edacity doesn’t let anyone but members into the Freshman Lounge, not without an appointment, that is. I sent you a friend request after I got tired of waiting.”
He suddenly stiffened. “Come ON!” he groaned. His avatar straightened and went completely stiff, exactly like last time.
Vannin leaned forward and poked the man in the chest. No reaction whatsoever. “Where do you think he goes?”
“His mom probably screamed at him to come rub her feet. And just when I was starting to have a little fun.” Atrea shrugged. “So. I’m here. I’m curious. Your message said you needed help with some kind of special guild quest?”
Vannin nodded, eager to finally get to the meat of why he reached out to the both of them. He eyed the immobile Norik, wondering if he should wait until the other man returned before he explained, but ultimately decided it might be easier to get it all out while he and Atrea were separated. “Honestly, I’m surprised you decided to show. You said you don’t really party up, and you don’t seem to see much value in the guilds.”
“Let’s just say I had some extra weight that needed balancing and leave it at that, okay?”
His brow crinkled in confusion, but he wasn’t about to argue. Without going into the reasons behind his desire to join Edacity, Vannin quickly explained what he’d been doing with himself for the last few weeks. He told her about Baccanna Clearing and the unique Battleswine mobs that populated the secluded location to the south of Lemond’s Crossing. He showed her the strange potion Ulrich had given him, and though she was tight-lipped on the details, Atrea admitted to having first-hand knowledge of the workings of similar potions.
“Cutting this quest a little close, aren’t you?” she said after he’d finished his story. “Might be better to direct your energies toward other, less pressing goals.”
He shook his head, hard enough that Atrea raised her eyebrows at his reaction. “That’s not an option. I’ve worked way to hard for this to give up at the last minute.”
“It’s just a game, kid. Nothing that happens here matters.”
“It does matter!” he spat, louder than he intended. “I don’t get to leave. I’m stuck in this place. It might just be a game to you, but to me, this is my life.”
Atrea’s wide black eyes searched his face as she tried to decipher what was going on below the surface. After a moment, she pursed her lips and shrugged. “Whatever. What do I know about anything? I’m in.”
He blinked. “You’ll help?”
“Not like I have anything better to do. Could be fun. But we’ll need supplies, potions mostly. Some decent food wouldn’t hurt either. Splash potions only work once, so we’ll need to stack as many advantages as possible to make sure we finish this in one go. For as long as it took you to get the ingredients for the potion, you aren’t going to have enough time to make another.”
She reached out, pinching the fabric of his shirt. “In your current state, one or two hits to your core will pop you for sure. What did you plan on doing about your broken chest piece?”
Norik’s stance relaxed, and a wide smile broached the man’s narrow face, signaling his return to the game. “Let me handle that! I might be little more than a probationary member, but I have access to some pretty decent low-level gear that I doubt my guild will miss.”
Atrea’s hands went to her hips. “Only fitting, considering you were the one to break it.”
“You heard all that?” Vannin interjected, fast enough to stop the argument he knew was about to start.
“I did. And I’m happy to help.” A sly smile parted Norik’s lips. “Well, happy to participate in an exchange of services, at least.”
It was Vannin’s turn to cross his arms. He had suspected one or both of his potential teammates would request some form of compensation for their help, but he’d been hoping to satisfy them with money. “What did you have in mind?”
“I do this for you, and you help me get to top of the Ival’Bochord clock tower. Sooner rather than later, too. My timetable isn’t quite as tight as yours, but with the patch being moved up nearly two weeks, the deadline to get this handled is fast approaching.”
He held up his hands reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’s a simple affair. You’ll just need help me keep from getting crushed or cut in half or knocked into the air to fall to my death.”
“Uh...okay, I guess?” He turned to Atrea. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want in exchange for your help? The quest doesn’t give any experience, and I’m the only one that will benefit from the reward. I feel like I should at least give you something for your time.”
Atrea thought for a second before dismissing his concern with a huff. “You don’t have anything I want, but if it bothers you that much, let’s just say you’ll owe me one and leave it at that. That good enough for you?”
Vannin nodded in agreement, and he couldn’t help but smile. Things were actually falling into place. If everything went as planned, by the end of tomorrow, he might very well be accepting an invitation to the storied Edacity guild. He hoped Atrea and Norik couldn’t see how excited he was to finally gain access the guild’s unique resources – high level food and drink and magic designed specifically for the sensations they provide. He knew he would have to work for it, would have to prove himself, but time was on his side.
He cast a wary glance back into the alley, at the two Heems splayed out and deep in the throes of the Vegna coursing through their avatars. He would do whatever it took, whatever the guild asked of him. Until there were no other options left.