"The tech here is different from what you'd find other places, at least from what I've seen." Bec moved over to the menu, touching a few of the buttons experimentally. "But since this is an area that players can technically visit, no matter how difficult, I would imagine it has some similarities." He explained, fiddling with a few more buttons before a hologram popped up, displaying a large map in front of them. With a few more keystrokes, he was able to display their current location, that of the nearest bank, and the shortest route there.

With a few more presses, he sent mail to both himself and Duff, containing the coordinates of the bank. Upon opening it, they would automatically upload to the built in guidance system, giving them faint, but still noticeable, visual cues in the direction they had to go. "Should be everything we need."

Duff didn't try to let his marvel at Bec's prowess show. He'd gotten used to tech, yes. In his line of work, it was a necessity. Hunter-killer drones, combat-HUD. A modern soldier was practically drowning in technology. On the battlefield, it was a lethal boon. Here . . .everyone seemed to take for granted that they had a mooi good dotted line to follow through the entire game.

And yet, they were good with it. He had to admit, the little Bec knew more about this game than he. And was probably more dangerous. A short fellow to keep a tall eye on. He chuckled at that, batting with annoyance at his game-HUD, just different enough from the systems he was used to in the physical world to annoy him to no end.

"Get to the nice bank, use Bekka's codes. Get her gear." He mused half to himself. "Oi, Bec. Games like these, they have. . . what'smajigs. Special items for special people, eyeah? Do something special in the game, or friends with the developer . . . what sort of items you think they'd get? Better guns, nicer ships, bigger houses?"

He started walking along, heading for what sounded like a more populated area of the town. Up the street, following the dotted line like a good sheeple. The sounds of bustle and voices ahead.



Edited by Ajax on March 15, 2014 at 17:38:47

Terrel rolled her eyes at him, giving a derisive wave to someone who had stuck their head out the door in annoyance. "I'll bloody shank you," she retorted back to Rua, her virtual head throbbing in a way that was all too real. She stumbled into the room and slumped across the bed, wishing that part felt more real and relaxing than it ended up feeling. It was just going to be one of those days.

Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling groggily, trying to collect herself long enough to make conversation before she passed out. Asking questions was a good enough way to avoid getting the same treatment. "Did you find anything interesting? Meet any nice people while I was gone? New friends?" She snorted at the thought, as if it were too ridiculous to even fathom.

---

Bavish raised an eyebrow at her as the shuttle slowly docked into station. "Most Theta's aren't so brazen about their status. It's safer to keep that under the radar--I'm sure you've heard about the homicides?" But he had a question to answer of his own.

He seemed like a suit, did he? Suits came in a variety of colors.

"Me, though?" He smiled a bit, rubbing at his beard with a thick hand before leading the way to exit the shuttle. They weren't in the White Lion's building yet, technically, but they were in an atrium of sorts outside the thing. Their base of operations was a part of a complex of buildings, not all of which belonged to them. Someone might argue about security, but, then again, it was the Core.

"On the outside, I'm quite incarcerated. Not that it matters anymore, though. This is my job now, just like it's yours. Being stuck tends to do that, hm?" He gave her his most winning smile, but alerts appeared on his HUD not a moment later, causing him to lose it as quickly as he'd put it up.

He opened and closed the private message fast and faster, grimacing and turning to his guests. "Something's come up for me. Wait here, would you? I'll only be a couple of minutes." He hoped. Peer had better had a good reason for pulling him away right at this moment.

Without another word, Bavish left the two of them in the atrium, bustling into the White Lions building as quick as he could.

Rua stepped aside as Terrel slipped into the room, moving the concealed sword he held in his right hand out of the way of her legs. His head turned to follow her trip as he closed the door, and only then did he return his sword to its scabbard.

As Terrel collapsed onto the bed, Relayia perked her head up from where she had curled up into the pillow, and chirped reproachfully at her for disturbing her with the impact. Rua and Terrel both ignored the dragonet as they talked.

Rua frowned and placed a fist against his hip at Terrel's question. "Well, actually, I may have found us a decent lead on an informant," he told the thief. He fell backwards, leaning against the wall and crossing one foot over the other. "I didn't know he had come here, given his reputation, but now that I know where he is we can go bug him for information. Even if he doesn't have any, we can set him to finding something out for us."

He cocked his head to the side a bit. "What about you?" he asked. "Find out anything worthwhile on your task?"

"Don't want to talk about it tonight," Terrel mumbled, closing her eyes and flexing her jaw to try and relieve some pressure. "Is it even night still? What day is it?" She groaned, opening her eyes again and pinching the bridge of her nose--not that it helped, of course.

"Tell me about your thing. What did you find? Or who?" The fact that he didn't want to just give up and go home meant he was quite a bit further than she was at this point. Good news sounded great, right about then.

"An old informant I use to bum info on before the whole Theta crap hit," Rua explained from his spot on the wall. "He's a bit of a coward, but what info he finds is useful. He disappeared for a while, but I guess that's 'cause he came to Rogueport. It's not really the kind of place he hangs at, so it's little wonder I couldn't find him till now."

Relayia stood up from her pillow and stretched out catlike, unfurling her wings and nearly whacking Terrel in the face with one when she took to the air. "It's almost morning, by the way," Rua continued as an aside, answering her question. "A couple hours from sunrise."

Meanwhile, in the late evening in a certain Rogueport hell


By now the fires had dimmed low, most of the patrons had slunk off back to their holes or to the rooms upstairs. There was a soft "clunk" as a cloaked figure entered, throwing back her hood a moment later. She was slender, mid-twenties, a dancer's build with straw-colored hair and a smile that seemed to light up the room. Seeming at odds with the darkness, the cold of this dreary, depressing dive.

A satchel at her side, hidden mostly by the cloak. A dagger opposite it, and curiously enough, a guitar on her back. She strolled up to the sleepy bartender. "I'll Trade you song for food." She said with a cheerful voice, seeming to not care about the gloom surrounding her.

The Bartender glared sullenly at her, clearly unimpressed. So the woman shrugged. "Pick a color of hair, I'll sing you a song of beauty, if you like it. You give me some of the stew. If you hate it, kick me out or shank me."

The Bartender glanced around, finally shrugged and waving his hand, giving acceptance. "Black." He muttered, some forlorn look in his eyes. "Like a Raven. Black hair."

Without another word, the woman glided through and sat down on a dusty, dirty chair, creaking it back as she pulled up her guitar, strumming it softly. "My name," she announced softly to the few bleary-eyed patrons around her. "Is Sera. And I'm here to make your night a bit brighter, in this hellhole. I'm to sing you a song about a raven-haired beauty, I think you might like it."

Seconds later, she changed the tune of her guitar, striking into a soft, gentle song. Her lilting, kind-hearted voice seeming to work its way through the patrons. Most didn't seem to care, but a few lifted their heads, one or two taking bets on how long the crazy woman would last in their dreadful town. And yet, she still sung, words rising from her throat with an easy grace, "My lord, my lord. Why do you fly? The field of battle is ours tonight." And on, a tale of heartbreak, of loves lost and gained.

It was definitely getting uncharacteristically cool in this part of the world, she noted. The sun had finally slipped past the hillside above the shanty town, past the forest and temples beyond. It wasn't quite black out, and no stars could yet be seen. But the sky was a deep, dark blue. Soon true night would come to Rogueport... and that was when she should worry about being among its streets and alleys.

She shrugged her arms, shifting her shawl up over them as another cool sea breeze swept through Rogueport. She could do nothing for her legs, unfortunately, bare as they were. Times like these were when she wished she could still use that ragged red cape...

She shook her head, causing red-brown hair to flutter as she grimaced. Nothing she could do about it now. The lass shifted back, leaning against the thin frame of the hell, and propping one of her legs up against it. She wrapped her arms up in the ends of the shawl, concealing her hands and the long, thin implement clasped in her hands.

For once, the voices drifting from inside were simmering down, and she cocked her head to listen--wouldn't do to be caught unaware here. A whole shitty tavern-full of voices quieting down rarely meant good in Rogueport. Soon, she could hear why--a woman's voice, breaking out into a ballad of a raven-haired woman. Curious, she leaned towards the window and peeked inside, glancing over the patrons.

He was no longer inside, and that didn't surprise her in the least, of course. She hadn't seen him leave, though, so he was probably renting a room. Blue eyes peered out over the bar, until they came across a thin, light-haired woman carrying a guitar. She blinked in surprise, noting that it was the woman she'd seen go in earlier, and even more surprising to her, the player indicator hovering over her head.

"A bard class? Here?" she whispered softly, her words lilting. "She can't hope to think she'd get much out of these louts..."

Gently her voice ran through the tavern's central room. A smile on her face as she strummed her guitar with a master's hand, kicking her legs out to rest on a nearby empty stool, the well-worn boots on her feet causing a small puff of dust to explode from the top of the dirty stool.

Fiery orange-flecked eyes, alive and full of energy, gazed around as she sung. Looking too and fro, noting several vile glares from patrons near one of the far corners, but more importantly gazing to the bartender.

And here a gentle smile broke out onto her face, in the bartender's eyes were tears. Her song had apparently struck a cord, and she once again marveled at how life-like the characters of the game were. Her tone softened to a bare whisper as she held his gaze, ending the song softly. "To the hills, to the dales. With you, my love, with you." She let the silence hang for a few precious seconds before smiling to the rest of the patrons. "I'm not dead yet, I take it you want another song?"

She smiled briefly, and leaned back away from the window, shaking her head slowly. She had the feeling that the bard player wasn't aware of where she was, or wasn't taking Rogueport seriously. She might've won over the barkeep, she thought. But she isn't winning over the patrons.

She rolled the implement in her hands slowly, glancing down at it, contemplating. She wondered if the bard was going to try and stay for a room or leave for another part of the town, and she knew that both options were bad for the bard. Wherever her skills in the game lie, she had made herself a target in there, probably without even realizing it.

She sighed and glanced back at the window. Well, if she left, then she could probably interrupt and tell her her folly. It wouldn't be wise for her to return inside with how she was dressed; she already had the patrons thinking she'd left. Never mind the fact that he was still in there somewhere...

A few moments later, no one had tried to murder her. So with a graceful glide she hopped up, heading for the barkeep. Several leers from the corner followed her, but she paid them little mind. She wasn't going to stay the night here.

Wordlessly the Barkeep slid a small bowl of steaming stew over to her, the wooden bowl grinding against the chipped counter. His eyes, still a touch moist, looked to her with a bit more warmth than before, seeming to contemplate something for a few seconds before he nodded gruffly towards the corner. "This isn't a nice town, singer. Those boys don't take kindly to smiling, carefree girls. You'd do well to get away from here. Try to hole up before dark though."

She smiled, picking up the bowl. "Bard." She corrected gently. "I play the guitar too, I'm a bard."

He stared at her wordlessly before giving a weary shake of his head. "Crazy bard. Take the bowl." he nodded again to the corner, one of the ruffians was standing, eying her coldly.

"I hope to see you again, some day. Barkeep." She smiled warmly. "Stay safe, be well." With that, she slung her guitar over her back. Pulling up her hood a moment later as she strode out of the hell, bowl of stew in hand.

"Perhaps. At the very least, I'd imagine that those working for Ymaggion Corp. might have some special tools available to them within the game." He frowned, letting his feet follow the trail without really watching where he was going. "I've wondered about that before, though." He looked around, ensuring no one was within hearing of them yet, before continuing.

"I know I'm being paranoid with this, but what if said tool held a way for people like myself to escape? As much as I'd like to think the best of the system admins, maybe they missed something." He sighed. "Ah, well, maybe I'd just like to look at it myself, just to be sure that there wasn't something there to save me, you know?" He shrugged.

As the bard moved from her spot at the table, towards the bartender, the girl outside slipped away from the window and went back to leaning on the thin wall near the hell's entryway, sighing as she briefly lost herself in thought. She contemplated the implement in her hands, rolling its circumference between her fingers.

She knew she should probably talk to that other girl, let her know that she was not doing herself any favors with her actions tonight. Of course, here, that could come off as a threat. The object in her hands really wouldn't help that impression either, she decided, but not having it out right now was equally stupid. This was Rogueport. A woman doesn't dare stroll through Rogueport without being armed in some manner. Lord, she hated coming to this place. Rogueport always made things so damnably complicated...

She was still looking down at what she held when she heard footsteps from within, each step growing subtly louder as it approached the door. She glanced sideways, moving little, and saw the woman exiting. It was definitely the same woman, as she had the guitar slung over her shoulder again. She was holding a bowl of stew in her hands, and it was that that cemented in her mind that this girl had no idea what she was doing in this shanty town.

As a woman, you don't come here unarmed in some manner. You certainly don't come out of a hell with both of your hands occupied with a bowl of food. She lowered her foot from the wall and turned her head to the woman. "You're not doing yourself any favors, you know?" she said, her voice having a soft lilt to it. Blue eyes glanced again at the bowl, exasperated, and then back up at the bard.

Duff smiled broadly, more than a touch of madness in his gaze. "You tink the admin wozzanames have your best interests at heart? Tink again, Bec me boy. They're suits and ties, they like money and good newspapers, not bad newspapers. They'll make a mooi good show of trying to help, but will care more about their bottom line."

He pushed up the street, following the path laid out. Not actually that far away. Maybe a mile or two, at most. "Trust me, I've worked for types like them plenty. Bekka was a special consultant to these admin guys once 'pon a time. She didn't seem to think highly of 'em."

_______

Sera smiled to the woman, taking in her appearance with a quick sweep of the eyes. "Most would-be Muggers and rapists take unkindly to having their faces scalded." She answered with an easy smile.

She walked towards the other woman, careful to keep far enough away to both not crowd her, and be able to react swiftly should the woman prove yet another danger in this dangerous town. "I'm on my way to another hell before it gets too dark, care to join me? I'll share the stew."

She shook her head, causing her hair to flutter side-to-side behind her back. "I'll pass on the sharing," she said. "I've already ate. And I'll tell you now, you're better off finding an inn and waiting for morning. You've already got your meal and you won't find much money for your services here. Not that kind of service, at least."

The distaste in her lilting accent was more than enough to tell the other player what kind of service 'round here would get her any decent cash. The brunette pushed herself up off of the wall, keeping her shawl draped around her bared shoulders, and motioned with her free hand that they should start walking. "There's rooms for rent back in here," she said, gesturing with a nod of her head, "But you've already made a spectacle of yourself there. Best not to risk it."

"Oh. I don't doubt that we probably don't matter to those running Ymaggion. And like you said, they are probably making a good show of trying to help, at least for the benefit of the rest of the world. But what happens when we're stuck here, and they still haven't found a solution? They'll be ruined as a company." Bec scratched at his head, before motioning towards their destination.

"There it is."

Sera shrugged, a pleasant smile seeming to come easily to her. "Renting requires money. I sing for my food. And much as the thought of sex is enticing, I'd prefer it be for something other than a quick dollar."

She moved along with the woman, taking a quick bite of her stew. Trying to keep a wary eye out for trouble while walking and eating, and not succeeding terribly well on any of the three fronts.

"Do you live here? Or Just passing through?" She questioned thoughtfully, gazing up at a broken down sign that once proclaimed "Cheap Rooms", though now the "Rooms" had been crossed out and replaced with a garish "Trinkets" instead, a tired looking shopowner standing just inside his door, willing someone, anyone to come inside and buy something.

______

"See, 'ere's the ting." Duff said lightly, drawing one or two stares due to his scruffy beard and fresh cuts. "If they're the admins, can't they just give you Theta's a potion for invincibility? But dey haven't, now have dey?"

He chortled. "I don't think they care very much 'bout you Theta's. Don't be surprised if you all die and they keep on their merry way." He started up the steps towards the glowing entrance of the central bank, the steps themselves seeming to take forever, his boots thumping sharply on the marble-like surface. "fancy besigheid," he muttered to himself, glaring distrustfully at the sweeping columns and beautiful inlaid gold.

"... passing through, hopefully," the woman admitted to the bard. She had noted with disapproval how she was failing to keep an eye out for threats, but luckily she had her there to do so. She turned her eyes way, scanning the area and noting the shopkeeper. He looked tired, but his eyes were pretty sharp. Best not to risk going in that direction.

"Any player in her right mind wouldn't want to live here," she continued. She continued to twist the implement in her hand, like it was a nervous habit. She smiled a bit, glancing back at the other player. "I could ask the same, but it's pretty obvious that you're a visitor here."

"I'm exploring." Sera said simply. "Town to town. I sing, try to bring a smile." Noting as she spoke that her every move seemed to draw a vague sense of disapproval. "If you think I'm a fool, you've only to say so." She took another bite of her stew. "You'd not be the first."

Bec kept quiet. Duff was a rather dour man. Bec wasn't sure if he was quite ready to condemn those at Ymaggion. At least, not yet. But he decided to keep his opinion to himself, for now. Instead, he looked at the building they had just reached. It was beautiful, but cold. There weren't many people; not like the banks and storage houses in the other main cities. But he preferred this. It was not quite so lonely, in a strange sort of way. He could see the faces of everyone inside the building, instead of just fleshy blurs in constant motion.

"I'm not sure what to do from here. I assume you have some idea, though?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary," came the response, with a shake of her head. Once more she turned her gaze away, scanning for potential threats. The turn of her head was slow, careful, and soon stopped, as if she was looking at something scratched on one of the dingy walls of a building they were walking passed.

The woman then closed the gap between herself and the bard with a couple steps. Her gait was casual, and she leaned her head in close to the other player, whispering in a lilting voice so only she would hear. "I mean, you've already got two people trailing you now," she said in a conspiratorial fashion.

Sera smiled. "So why whisper about it? If they mean to kill me, or us . . .they're gonna try either way." She turned, calling out to the figure that followed them carefully. "How frightened must you be to skulk behind a hapless bard?" She spread her arms wide, beckoning. Mostly eaten bowl of stew in one of her hands, her other free and clear.

_____

"Got Bekka's passcodes, we just have to go in. Present it to the machiny, and get let into 'er vault." Duff walked into the building, giving a manic grin to a nearby guard, and scanning the innards of the spacious building.

His eyes quickly latched onto a center pedestal with a glowing, holographic keyboard, seeming out of place in the more magical setting. "Unless I'm blind, that'd be the spot."

The woman's jaw dropped at the bard's actions, utterly stupefied at how reckless her actions were. Oh god, she's one of those, she lamented in her mind. She turned her gaze back to their stalker, and saw that he was keeping to the shadows, his face hidden. The only easy thing to tell that he was male--

There was a sudden flash of movement, and she only had a moment to act. Her free hand shot up to the bard's shoulder and shoved hard, knocking them both off balance and separating the two of them. A flash of steel whizzed between them--the thrown blade, barbed on each end, slammed into a wooden building wall.

She grunted as she hit the deck, and scrambled to get back up onto her feet as their assailant charged, another knife in his hand as he lunged at the bard.

"Looks to be right." Bec nodded. "I'll let you handle putting in the code." Bec wasn't sure he was quite ready to be involved in whatever it was Duff, and his crew, were up to. He walked up to the pedestal, pulling the keyboard towards him. Pressing a few keys opened up a passcode entry screen. Bec was curious as to why exactly Duff hadn't taken care of this at some other city; after all, player vaults were synced to all banks in every city. Was there something special about the Core? Shrugging, he moved aside so that Duff could access the keyboard. He turned around pointedly, obviously taking care not to look.

"Should be good to go."

Duff nodded amiably to Bec, brushing past him with a muttered "Thank ye." And then typing in the passcode. Seconds later, the pedestal they stood upon glowed, and with a whirring flash, they were suddenly standing in what looked like a concrete bunker, various tables and lockers lining the room, roughly the size of a two car garage.

Duff practically hooted in happiness as he surveyed the tables. "Bekka me girl . . . knew you were holding out!" He crowed as he stalked to the nearest table, upon which were a number of matte black rifles of various shapes and sizes. He hefted a particular model with a holographic sight and snub-nose design, the weapon almost seeming to form to his body, so great was his familiarity with it.

Seeming suddenly far more at home, now with a rifle in his hands, he looked over and down to Bec, "So what ye say, Bec? Gonna stay in the nice safe core until your admin white knights come save the day for the Thetas?"

____

Sera grunted as the woman shoved her bodily to the side, guitar crunching against the uneven pavement. She shivered and pushed herself back up as speedily as she could, hearing boots coming towards her. Everything was moving fast, she'd barely seen something that appeared a knife fly by, and now someone was running towards her and it surely seemed his intent was less than polite.

Her cloak had snagged, wrapping itself around her and making access to her knife difficult, if not impossible. So with a pained grimace, she held her place for a moment, knowing she'd only get the once chance to try something. As the attacker closed the distance with dangerous speed, she slung the already damaged guitar off her back with a practiced motion, and in the gathering dusk, swung it bodily into her attacker, putting her modest strength fully behind the blow.

The guitar struck soundly, and the two women could hear the crunch of breaking wood on flesh as it bashed into their attacker. He recoiled, crying out from the pain, and dropped the knife he held. As it clattered on the planks below, the other woman was back up on her feet, lunging forward with the narrow implement in her hand.

The arrowhead gleamed in the light emitting from the buildings, and stabbed into the thug with a red flash of it sinking into his chest. She spun around, pulling out another arrow, and stabbed it into his back, causing him to stagger forward into the light.

They only got a brief look at his features--dark, native skin-tone and wearing bright clothing, his head covered in a red bandanna--before the arrow-brandishing woman kicked him squarely in the butt, shoving him forward right off the deck and into the water. There was a surprised yell followed by a splash as he fell into Rogueport's bay.

She turned to look at the bard, and made an exasperated sigh. This was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to avoid tonight!

Sera paused a moment, catching her breath as her companion dealt with the attacker, eyes widened in a touch of awe. After he'd been dumped unceremoniously into the bay, she grunted and knelt, picking up her guitar. "Well . . she's seen better days." She muttered, brushing her cloak out and untangling it. "Is he dead?"

"Probably not," was the reply. She walked over to her discarded shawl and plucked it off the ground, wrapping it once more around her shoulders. "Arrows don't usually do enough damage without being fired from a bow."

She glanced once more at the bard, then at the knife embedded in the wall and yanked it free. Walking back up to the bard, she gave it a cursory appraisal, then grimaced. "Poison coating on it," she said distastefully. Her accent was more pronounced with her irritation. "This one certainly wanted to make sure you were dead."

She turned and threw the dagger out into the bay as hard as she could. There was a distant splashing noise, and between the distance and the darkness, it'd be difficult for anyone to retrieve it. She turned back to the bard. "Now do you believe me when I say you're not doing yourself any favors?"

Sera slung the battered, mostly-destroyed guitar over her shoulder again, the worn strap sliding along her cloak and into place with a familiar ease. "Better he attack during the half-light than full dark." She replied amiably to her companion. "If he doesn't like my singing, he's welcome to come back. Elsewise, I'll continue on my way."

She stretched, making sure the fall hadn't done any serious damage. "I'm Sera, by the way. Wandering bard."

The other woman cocked her head aside, considering. In the feeble light from where they stood, it was hard to make out her expression. "You can call me Fille," she finally told her. Her accent caused the Ls in her name to roll together--this girl definitely had some foreign background to her.

"You're still going to sing at the rest of the taverns here, aren't you?" Fille asked. She sounded exasperated.