Diplomacy #3 (psych! It's about to get real again)

We left the converted cave that was the guildhall. Loudly and in the dead of night, the Clownslayers marched, chanting my name.

"Where are we going?" I limped behind, chained like a prisoner.

"The adventurer's guild for our daily strategy meeting," Sergei explained, fighting the commotion.

While Amere did not join in their ribaldry, she hummed along to their tune, sweet as granny's peach tea. Around us, the citizens of Goblinsville peered out of their stone and clay mounds to curse us. Nighttime is decided by the brightness of the gems and lanterns, which cycle inexplicably. For the first time, we were the annoying frat douches.

We arrived at the ruins of a great Stonehenge-type structure. At the site of an Imitator attack, rows of what little wildflowers grew in the game's environment were placed to mourn the players and NPCs that once were.

"Can't believe there used to be a roof on this thing." Sergei sighed. He motioned, and his men scattered until they found a marked boulder. They lifted it, revealing a staircase into the abyss. One of them uttered Candlemaker's art: foolish wick, and his finger caught on fire. Bellowing ouch all the way down, he lit our way as we descended.

"What are we going to find down there?" I asked. I noticed it was just Amere, Sergei, our light guy, and me. Like bouncers, the rest of the Clownslayers stood vigil in the world above.

"The council of elders, who rule goblinsville. An elected chief leads them. On the other hand, we have the adventurer's guild association, the morons who administrate all two hundred guilds." Amere bit her lip.

"So they give quests and run things?" I asked.

"Not quite." Sergei flinched.

"These people read too much Ayn Rand and Machiavelli, but these people can't read," Amere muttered under her breath.

Hmm... I'm sensing danger again. Not the kind when the Imitator would skewer me alive, but when Gordon spilled the beans on Julius Caesar-ing my ass.

"You ever seen a Mad Max movie?" Sergei apocalyptically predicted. He threw open the great copper doors of the vault to bask in the chaos within.