CHAPTER 13

The clan had information, weapons, clothes, components, everything one could need to craft things… within reason, of course. Anyone who wanted to learn how to do that could study with the clan master. The clan also had its own hunting lands or a few areas with different levels that newer players could use to level-up, safe from PKers. I would head to one of them the next day with the latest batch of volunteers.

And that was basically it for the rights and responsibilities.

"Got it?" Sergeant looked at me.

"Yup," I nodded.

"Then be on the square in front of the fortress at 9 a.m. Moscow time tomorrow. We'll head to Gringvort to beat up some skeletons and zombies. That's it for now—get out of here."

"Um... Master Sergeant, I can't."

"What? You know, you're really starting to get to me! Stop with your jokes! Why can't you?" The dwarf sprouted red spots, and even his beard turned pinkish.

"I don't know the way out of the fortress..."

I knew better than to hope that a dwarf who was about to crush my skull would walk me to the exit. Still, he had some brain cells left, as he called to a Level 114 mage walking by, "Eilinn, are you on your way out?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Carol threw this volunteer at me, and he has no idea how to leave. I don't have time, you know how it is—ambushes to plan, betrayals to hunt down."

"Got it. Sure, I'll show him," the mage replied amiably. He seemed nice, with a frank face, middling height, and intriguing staff: four clawed paws holding a crown with broken-off tines.

"Unusual, isn't it?" Eilinn smiled when he saw what I was looking at.

"Yes," I answered. "Epic?"

"Epic. Let me introduce myself, and we'll get going. Sergeant always has a ton to do, and as far as I know, he's leading an excursion to Gringvort tomorrow. It isn't an easy location, takes a lot of prep work. Anyway, my name is Master Eilinn. And yours, my young padawan?"

"Leyton."

"How did you know about our outing?" Sergeant jumped back into the conversation.

"No need to ask, since it isn't polite to interrupt," the mage said to the dwarf reproachfully. The latter was quiet, which I found very surprising. "But I wouldn't expect anything different from you. I'll be coming with you tomorrow to cover the volunteers."

"Oh, you'll be there tomorrow." Sergeant lightened up.

"That's great. Who else is coming?"

"Rango, Reineke Lis, and Krolina."

"Wow. It's been a while since we had such a veteran group. What's the occasion?"

"It just worked out that way," laughed Eilinn. "Leyton, follow me. See you tomorrow, Sergeant."

"See you tomorrow," I said to my first boss in parting.

The stubborn dwarf ignored us and walked back into his room, pulling so hard on his beard that it almost grazed the lintel.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked Eilinn immediately.

"Well, two things. First, I've never seen a dwarf who wasn't in a bad mood. Not even once. They're all incredibly feisty and standoffish. And, to be honest, they're all just plain greedy."

"Well, not all of them," I said, remembering the dwarf who gave me 10 gold when I was running around Brad in my underwear.

"If you saw any other kind of dwarf, you're lucky. All the ones I know are stingy bastards. Anyway, second, Sergeant does have it tough. He can't walk."

"What do you mean he can't walk?"

"He just can't. When he was 16, he got into a car accident. The car rolled, he was sitting in the back, and when it landed, something bent too far and snapped his spine. That's why he started playing Elysium. He's almost always here, in fact."

I felt terrible. Of course, he'd never served in the army. On the other hand, I couldn't have known. Still, I started to get that gnawing feeling…

"Obviously, it hasn't made him all that humble or pleasant to be around. But believe me, he's a good person. And a true friend. Just believe me. You'll see for yourself at some point."

"What about everyone else who's going with us?"

"You're lucky. You got all three of the clan's best players. Good fighters. Rango and Krolina have been in the clan from the beginning, and Lis joined a bit later. Rango and Krolina are hunters, Lis is a swords-man. So tomorrow, you can just relax and focus on levelling-up.

"Is there something to worry about?"

"Well, put it this way... The location is tricky, and it's designed for Levels 29-32. You would never make it there on your own. The other volunteers are generally between Level 26 and Level 29, so they'll get a good chunk of experience, too, especially at the beginning. That's why they're sending you there. You should get a bunch of goodies tomorrow, so your hamster will be happy. I imagine you'll get some good achievements and 10 or 12 levels. As far as what makes it tricky, well, there are sometimes a few bosses among the skeletons and zombies. There's a Level 46 leech and a Level 48 zombie king. They're tough since they're strong and they cast all kinds of crap. Theoretically, you could take them out, but you'd still die a bunch of times in the process. And you'd lose all the experience you got, so what's the point? Anyway, if they show their heads, we'll take them out."

"That sounds interesting. Oh, and what did you say about a hamster?"

Eilinn smiled, "All gamers have a hamster sitting inside of them. When they get something free, it's happy and sings. When they have to give something up, it whines and complains. Yours is definitely going to come out to play tomorrow. Just don't be late; we'll be porting at 9:05. And we won't wait around for anyone."

We'd gotten to the exit by the time we finished talking.

"It was nice meeting you," said Eilinn. "I have to run, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"Me, too," I responded with complete sincerity. "See you then."

I watched Eilinn walk away and clicked the button to log out.

A quick glance at the clock when I climbed out of the capsule shocked me; I'd been playing for quite a while.

That Gamroth is a sneaky son of a gun. I was on the job the whole day and even a bit more, I thought. But that idea was quickly interrupted by two more base instincts. I was hungry and...well, I needed to do something else. And that second one needed to happen soon.

Having eaten and cleaned myself up a little, I sat down at my computer. It was about time to get started on my article. The clock was ticking, after all. I looked at the open text editor in front of me. And looked, and looked.

"I need more material first. Then I'll have this thing whipped out in no time... Later..."

I was about to turn off my computer when I remembered lying wrapped up in the blanket and hearing Mila and Carol talking about the Great Dragon quest and getting to Rivenholm in ships. Nothing Carolan said could be described as anything but a stream of consciousness. I had made a mental note to look up both of those—really, to figure out what Rivenholm even was. Also, I needed to see if I could dig up anything about that Wanderer. Maybe there was something online? Probably not.

I logged onto a forum and started with a search for the Great Dragon. As it turned out, I shouldn't have skipped reading all the Elysium lore when I started playing. The history was far-reaching, fascinating, bloody, and varied. It was especially rich in wars. There were the two Skeleton Wars, the three Wars of Loathing, and another dozen that went nameless. However, the most brutal and violent was the War of the Dragon. Some thousand years ago, long before there were ever any players, all the intelligent races in Elysium clashed. On one side were the undead and unhumans under the command of the Great Dragon—a real one, fire-breathing with wings, the last of the hymenopterans in Elysium. His ranks included skeletons and leeches, specters with their dogs of death, trolls, zombies, and ores. On the other side, were the light and intelligent races: people, elves, and dwarves...well, and halflings and everyone else who more or less fell into those categories. The fighting started off small, and, naturally, the undead and unhuman started to lose. However, things escalated into genocide as whole dark races were wiped out in their native lands. That was when their leader, the Great Dragon, uttered a pronouncement, "If fate has not deemed us worthy of victory, our time has not yet come."

He disbanded his forces, conceded victory to the light races, and petitioned for an end to the pointless killing. However, in exchange for his forces laying down their arms, he demanded that they be exempt from prosecution aimed at destroying them or extracting reparations in civil courts. The war was over, and they needed to get back to living.

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