"Oh give me a break already," Terrel groaned, wishing that things didn't feel quite so real at the present moment. Something about the new software, besides getting you stuck, definitely messed with how the game connected to your head. You weren't supposed to get tired or hungover, yet here she was. The game was getting old.

Finally, she managed to get her thoughts lined up enough to figure out what came next. "Look, I'm going to have to sleep this off. Not sure what they put in the water, but this character--me, I guess--needs to sleep it out for at least a couple of hours. Unless you've got a Red Potion tucked away in your inventory somewhere, I'm going to be useless for the next three or four hours."

---

Elevator doors opened at last, revealing a disgruntled looking Bavish. He ran a comb through his hair, straightened his uniform, and cracked his neck uncomfortably, but it all did little to preoccupy him. For half an hour he had been gone, and for half an hour he had been wondering if his subjects would abandon him. He could have followed, of course, but you only get the first meeting, well... once.

But they were still there, which was a relief, and he could only hope the time had not been spent working up cover stories to slow him down as long as possible. In a few swift moves, he worked his way back over to the man and woman and sat down across from them.

"You're still here, hm? Not that I'm complaining, of course. Now... ah... where were we?"

Bec was quiet for a few moments, thinking over Duff's words... "Nothing in particular, no. However, here is a question: most major cities seem to sell things fairly unique to their continent. Allondel's has some of the greatest enchanters and spellbooks in the game, provided you have the gold. Cher Plek is known for it's exotic ingredients, both flora and fauna, while precious metals are to be had in Kouchi, if you know where to look. Perhaps then, we will be able to find something unique if we look around."

He shrugged. "That could take awhile, though.

Bekka stood, stretching. "You were talking about Theta Homicides." She squeaked out, voice changing pitches as she stretched. A small smile crossed her face, they really had thought of everything for this game. A few years of playing it and she was still finding out new things.

The armored soldier next to her spoke, causing Bekka surprise once again. He'd never been this talkative to other people besides the team . . and now, he was practically talking up a storm-.

"You also said something about being incarcerated on the outside. Rather curious turn of phrase. First thing that comes to my mind is prison." The armored form added onto Bekka's words simply, his voice betraying no emotion.

_______

Duff nodded. "On 'nother note, think this core would be the best place to get information? We're . . sort of looking for a pair o people." He tapped the buttons on the console, transporting them back out into . . .whatever the main game would would be considered. Maybe just the main game world, he wasn't actually positive on that count.

The disk of light bearing their equipment follow along soundlessly, causing Duff to give it a paranoid look. "Dis Magica stuff is gonna be interesting to get used to." He muttered under his breath.

Silence followed Sera's reveal, as Fille contemplated what the bard had told her. Finally, there was a sigh, and she ran a hand through her hair laboriously, displacing the colored hairband she wore.

"Well, you sang at Rogueport tonight," she said, almost a touch derisively. "Mission accomplished."

The other player pushed herself up to a sitting position, twisting around to look at Sera. Her expression was sharp, her lips pulled into a frown. "If that's your goal, then you should try and see it through to the end, Sera. Goals mean nothing if you're dead." There was something there in her voice, like a faint trace of bitterness hidden behind her accent.

"I don't think a potion will help," Rua said, cocking his head to the side with a frown as Relayia resettled on the bed near Terrel. "Go ahead and get some sleep, I can finish the watch tonight. We'll head over to our informant's place in the morning."

The woman named Terrel nodded reluctantly, kicking off her boots and turning over on the bed for comfort. With what little mental strength she had left, she navigated her menu and set an alarm for three hours from then. Even though her body needed sleep now, in this game, it still could manage on much less than you might need on the outside. Already she could feel unconsciousness coming over her, but she managed one last word in before it took her.

"My alarm goes off in three hours. Might not wanna be in the room when it... when it doe--" Exhaustion took her.

---

"I agree with you, my quietly armored friend, I think of prisons as well," Bavish said, not speaking of the thing directly but not denying it either. "But really, compared to you two I'm hardly interesting, don't you think? My associates are waiting on the floors above with questions and, I think, an offer. I am sorry for taking your time as I have so far, but the worthwhile part is yet to come."

Bavish stood from his seat and gestured at the elevators he had just come from. "Would you mind joining me for a little longer, then?"

Sera shook her head. "Ah-ah." She said with a tired smile. "I've got to try and sing for the lords of Rogueport." She corrected with a waggle of a single finger from her right hand.

"Not trying to die. But I've found . . ." And here she paused, her orange-flecked eyes, so full of life, seeming to dim with pain, almost a visual mirror of Fille's voice. "I've found I've spent the last chunk of my life unable to do anything. And now that I've got a window, no matter how brief. I want to do something no one else has."

Almost immediately she was smiling again, the sadness gone. Forced out by sheer willpower. "So, Lords of Rogueport or bust. I can be out of your hair soon as you want. You gave me a place to fix my guitar, that's more than enough."

______

With a casual gaze to her armored partner, Bekka used her old friend as a sort of gauge. She'd not been in the business for . . what was it, two months? It didn't seem like that short a time. Her instincts were a bit dulled, in this suddenly all-too-real situation.

For his own part, George seemed at ease. Sometimes deceptively so, as she recalled. Normally he'd be easy to read, but now . . . she wasn't sure. A gaze to Bavish revealed few clues. Apparently in the physical world he was in prison, or wished them to believe so. He must have been in a well-to-do one, if true. She didn't remember the female corrections facility she'd spent a year in being so nice as to give her access to a game.

But then . . .George was at her back, and while he wasn't Duff, he was close in terms of sheer combat prowess. And it seemed rather silly of Bavish to take them all this way if he just wanted them dead. Best to see what he wanted. What the "others" he'd mentioned wanted, and perhaps just as important, what they were offering.

"Lead the way, Bavish." She smiled cheerily to the man.

Rua could only sigh and shake his head as Terrel collapsed on the bed. Perhaps she was more susceptible to the game world's effects? There were ways around such, of course, but they were difficult to pull off. Even he hadn't mastered those mental exercises.

The swordsman player moved over to an unadorned wooden chair and drew his sword, resting it point-down against the nearby table before sitting down. He pulled over one of their two confiscated books over to him and opened it up to read. It was going to be a long few hours till sunrise.

Now if only he could block out that damn fish smell...

"Rogueport doesn't have lords, Sera," Fille informed her, not unkindly. "There's a mayor, yeah, but while I'm not sure, I think he's a puppet. Never mind that he's paying people to kill outsiders pretty much for the hell of it."

Fille shook her head, waving her hair about. "No one really controls Rogueport. Not for long, anyway. Power shifts all over the place, with all the criminals cutting each other down and backstabbing each other."

"Someone pulls the strings of the Mayor. I intend to find that person." She knew full well she sounded crazy. A half-dozen other players, Theta's she'd met, had all said as much.

But time was not on her side, as her father had muttered darkly, last she'd seen him. "If I can't find them, I'll move on. I don't exactly have a lot of time."

Fille could only gape, staring incredulous at Sera. How could this girl be so suicidal? This was ridiculous!

She shook her head slowly in disgust. "You're going to get yourself killed," she muttered, too low to be heard. She turned back around to lay on the bed properly, and to prevent Sera from seeing more of the dark expression she was certain was on her face. "Get to sleep," she told the bard player. "You're nuts for what you're trying to find, but you're better off looking for it in the daytime."

Sera curled up in the corner, guitar by her side, wadding up her satchel as a lumpy pillow. "Good night, Fille. Sleep well." She then closed her eyes, unsure of what exactly to do. Half of her said she should leave Fille soon, to spare the woman any more trouble. But then . .that would be rude. . . she mentally sighed, resolving to sleep at least a few hours before making any final decision.

"Magic isn't so hard, once you get the hang of it. Didn't you ever hear any fairy tales as a kid? This isn't so different." Bec shrugged. "But as for your two people, who knows? I'm just as out of my element in this place as you, general game mechanics aside. But logic would dictate that almost any player who has managed to come here from the outside is either well informed, or very, very lucky. It may very well be possible that there is someone in this city that can help track them down, or maybe even knows where they are."

Duff's jaw tensed. He'd never been the one who did most of this work. Not that he was complaining, exactly. Job was a job, money was money and above all . . there was Bekka and he'd risk it all to every circle of hell on the chance to see her live one more day. But at the moment, he was nearly at a loss.

"Decide to make it world-y hard finally in the last place I need." He said with a sigh, fingers brushing against the pistol at his side, and then gliding up his jacket to the black rifle slung across his back.

"So information is this place's trade." He glanced down to Bec again, "In dat case, Bekka's hopefully got the angle covered. But spreading us too thin in this place is liable to get us killed. Figure we should be back to the ship, 'least to drop off the equipment. What'hca thoughts?"

"Agreed. Dragging around all this equipment would be impractical, and might even get it stolen or otherwise confiscated." Bec nodded. "Perhaps Bekka will have returned to the ship by now, so it's a good idea either way." He started heading towards the door.

Duff nodded, seemingly impressed. "Got a good head on your shoulders, Bec." He said, a surprising amount of admiration in his voice. "Maybe not all nerds are bad." He pushed back out of the ornate building, trotting down the steps, eyes once again scanning the area for threats. "Dey say guns are allowed, but packing this much hardware might draw some stares. Just keep walking with the nice floating disk, not too far back."

Bavish led the way into the elevator, swiping an ID to take them up to the floors above. In only a few moments the thing vaulted all ten stories, and the doors opened again into the reception area of what looked like no more than a lavish office building. A reception desk stood in front of them, seating to the sides and a couple of security guards in the corners, quiet and alert. They may no noticeable changes when Bavish led his two guests into the room, but the larger man still eyed them all the same. The woman behind the reception's desk spoke up as he made his way toward her.

"Peer wants to see these two in his office, Bavish. He's asked that I escort them there and said he'll be in contact with you after it's done," she said simply, and Bavish could not help but clench his fists together in frustration. Making progress was impossible when that man wanted his nose in your business, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Turning to his recent acquaintances, he hoped they wouldn't decide to turn around and leave on the spot. Peer didn't have the faintest clue as to how people could be, sometimes.

"Looks like you two are in for a treat. Peer's a busy man, which means you'll probably want to hear what he has to say. If not, the door's still free," Bavish told Bekka and George bluntly, but he stood to the side after finishing, gesturing to the receptionist.

"If you'll follow me?" she asked, ready to lead them back.

---

Terrel was asleep in a matter of moments, a soft snoring noise coming from the bed before long. It would be some time before she would awake again, but--somewhere else--someone or something else was awake.

A message appeared on Rua's display, formatted like a Private Message but with the sending address left blank. It would read simply:

"Good morning, Mr. Dragonheart. I know for what you search. I may be able to help you."

Waiting through a night was a difficult trait to accomplish in the real world. The younger a person was, the better they were able to accomplish such, of course, and this game managed to make it easier to accomplish. Given that it was a game, there were certain things that players could accomplish here that they couldn't in the real world.

Unfortunately, Rua was still getting the hang of it, and he wasn't looking forward to finishing up the rest of the night. As Relayia curled up next a sleeping Terrel, Rua returned to the book he was reading, letting the hours drag on once more.

It was a soft chime that alerted him to the message. Blinking, he glanced up and saw the word floating in a holographic window. "Odd," he muttered to himself, and even with his voice at a quiet level, it seemed loud in the silent room. The player opened up the message with his hand, and immediately froze at what appeared.

Maybe it was just paranoia of Rogueport that had been ramped up by what Terrel had told him about the shanty town, but an unknown sender who already knew his name...

Rua grimaced. Was it someone from that task that Terrel was assigned when they got here? Did that crazy girl blab to one of them, or was forced to talk about what they were doing. He glanced over at the woman, then back at the message, feeling cold as he began to type up a response.

"Who are you and how do you know my name? How do you even know what I'm after?" was his reply.

A response came quickly--almost immediately--as if Rua's message had triggered an automated response.

"You were at Oracle's gathering in Minervum. Your name and intentions, hence, are easily understood. Clever trick in getting here so quickly; it has elevated you to the higher percentiles of your competition in short order, but I must warn you to be careful. The company you have chosen may undo that handily, should you rely on it too heavily. I suspect you already had begun to realize that, though.

"As for my identity, you may address me as EP. I am what you outsiders refer to as an 'NPC' in this world, and we may be able to help one another. Does this sound acceptable to you?"

Rua hesitated in his response. An NPC? One from Minervum, if what he said in the first line was true. But he didn't remember noting down his personal information anywh... oh. I gave Terrel my name, he remembered. Duh. And even this NPC hadn't overheard his name being spoken, he might've found access to a player register of sorts, maybe from Oracle.

... why would an NPC have access to a player register? Did a player register even exist? Sure, NPCs had some access to functions meant for players, like private messaging systems (though, if he remembered correctly, they couldn't do it just anywhere like a player could). And the fact this NPC knew about the workaround that Terrel had discovered...

Ugh. This was making his head hurt. At least this didn't seem to be about Rogueport. Rua bookmarked where he was at and set the book down completely--this EP person now had his attention entirely.

"Alright, I'm listening. You know something about the Arcanum Relics?" was his reply. Perhaps a little too short, but Rua was the one running blind here. EP seemed pretty in control of the chat, and EP knew it.

Edited by RisingDragon on June 7, 2014 at 13:11:09

"I do. I know pieces of their creation, safekeeping, purpose, and possibly the location of one. My own master has blinded me from knowing a definite place, but I believe I can bring someone to it, with cooperation. It is my understanding that, indeed, these Relics could perhaps unchain you from your own bondage. I am not the only one who suspects the truth of this.

"Perhaps you have wondered why the outsiders who impotently attempt to rule this world--these 'administrators'--have not simply quarantined your kind in a safe location? Or why they have not run some sort of protocol to flag all these players and grant them invulnerability? They are weak, but even they could treat the symptoms of this mess they have created. These things are not unconnected.

"Before I go on, Mr. Dragonheart, you and I must have an understanding. This woman you travel with can only help you so far, and she is completely incapable of holding her own tongue. For this reason, I must ask that this conversation be held entirely in confidence. Should you violate it, I will be forced to find another in your place. Do we agree on this?"

"I'll agree to it, but that might change depending on what happens to us. Our freedom from this place is too important."

Rua wasn't sure why he put that faith in Terrel. Maybe it was because they were stuck in this mess together, as a whole. Just like the other Thetas. But this EP guy was right--he wasn't sure that Terrel having the information was a wise move, given her flighty behavior when she was stressed. And given that just trying to read can be stressful for her...

He continued his reply and sent it. "What is it that you can tell me about what's going on?"

"I will uphold my end of this arrangement so long as you uphold your own. I think the longer you travel with this woman, the more you will find I am right. She is not so capable as yourself, and I do not say that as flattery but simply truth. Do not let attachment grow without cause."

The message ended there, but immediately another one came after it.

"You have, no doubt, heard of these so-called 'Theta Homicides' that have taken place over the last month. These administrators of yours believe that the one behind them is also the one who sabotaged the new protocol that has trapped many of your kind within this world. Perhaps he was once one of their own or maybe just an intruder, of this I do not know. Regardless, they still believe he is an intruder in their own system. Were they to try and collect all of these suddenly vulnerable people, they fear he would undo their protections and commit a genocide of sorts.

"Likely they overestimate or misinterpret him, otherwise there would have been considerably more intentional deaths, but of this I cannot say for certain. This, in curious turn, relates us to why the Arcanum Relics are so elusive.

"The Relics have existed since the original iteration of this world. Your leaders created them alongside a great quest, where an assembly of all seven would allow a group to defeat a great creation intended to be a final challenge of sorts. Already at this time, though, the man who seeks to end you now was already beginning to spread his strife. When the creators of these items attempted to test them against this great creation, one of them was struck down and--curiously--killed even outside this world.

"At once, they removed the enemy from this world along with this quest, but they left the Arcanum Relics behind in the event they might be needed or re-purposed in the future. My theory is that if these relics could once break the powers of something that could extend beyond this realm, then they could do so again. I think your rulers suspect this as well, but like the first position, their hands are bound, for they as a group have been compromised already. They fear their enemy may use the weapons for some other nefarious purpose, and they search for a different answer to this problem. Do you understand this so far?"

"More than I like to admit. You know quite a bit about this, for an NPC."

This had happened before? A boss enemy--the final boss, if he understood it right--had killed someone outside of the game? And... if what EP said was true, Y-Corp suspected there was internal sabotage? Rua felt cold at the revelation. As as cliche the situation sounded to him, it made sense. It explained why Y-Corp hadn't locked the game down, or ensured nothing could happen to the trapped players.

But if this EP guy knew about the truth to the Arcanum Relics, and why they were being sought out... who else knew?

"Many of us know more than we are permitted to admit. My own charge is one of protection over a single Relic, but I believe I could find all seven if one were to release my obligation here. Some time ago I managed to link into a deeper part of the subsystem that controls this world, giving me access to information on events and people through third parties. I know much of the outside world, and I know all of the world within the confines of my domain, but I know nothing immediately beyond it. I am handicapped by the limited knowledge of others, in a sense.

"When Oracle gathered the desperate souls to begin this mad hunt of yours, I tracked as many of them as I could. As the administrators feared, the collection in one place exposed each and every one of them for who they were. Some are already dead. You, on the other hand, suddenly came very close to my own proximity, though I cannot determine more than that. By cross-referencing everything I know about this place I guard, I can determine I am within the jungles on this continent you have traveled to so quickly. More than this, though, I am ignorant.

"My request is that you find me, Mr. Dragonheart. This Relic and all the others are in danger where they are. My obligation is to protect this Relic, and I fear it will not be safe here for much longer. Will you agree to this, or is there more you require to know?"

This NPC was safeguarding one of the Relics? Rua almost broke out into a sweat at the thought. An NPC that hacked into the deeper systems of the game and was safeguarding one of the Arcanum Relics. And said NPC had chosen him to be its next custodian.

This sounded bad no matter how he looked at it, but at this point he and Terrel had little choice on what to do. They could still hit up his lead tomorrow, maybe set him on an additional trail, but for now...

"I'll do what I can to find you. It might take a while; this continent isn't the safest place around right now."

"Try not to die. I'll be waiting."

Certainly an ominous way of ending a conversation, Rua thought.

He settled back into his seat, staring at the bed but seeing absolutely nothing of it. He stayed that way for a while, his mind running in circles around the conversation he just had with this EP character. It was some time before he reached for his book once more.

Eventually, dawn broke over the waters of Rogueport, though the sounds of the shanty town never really changed.

At the same time that the swordsman was nudging his stressed thief companion and his pet dragonet, halfway across the town in another inn, an auburn-haired woman was sitting up from her bed, straightening her hair as her own companion readied for the day.

The alarm went off inside Terrel's head, and her eyes opened immediately, confusion consuming her at once. With a gasp, she inhaled as if she had not been breathing the entire time, and a loud yell came out of her mouth a moment later.

"STOP!"

She winced at the sound of her own voice, gritting her teeth and bowing her head slightly. Slowly, she began to remember and realize where she was, and a fair amount of color filled her cheeks at the sight of Rua still in the room. Guess she hadn't gotten the message across that he should probably be out of the room when the alarm went off.

Sliding into a sitting position, Terrel rested her head against the wall, still breathing heavily but in a more controlled fashion.

"I... uh... Hm. Morning," she said at last, not ready to make eye contact yet.

"Last time I got fast-tracked into a busy person's office. I got canned." Bekka replied with an easy smile to Bavish. Rather than trying to hide her wariness, she merely tried to curb it. Let enough through to show she wasn't entirely pleased with the hand-off, but not enough to appear skittish. For a moment, she wished she was wearing armor such as her comrade's, hiding her expression behind a metal faceplate sounded enticing, at least for a few seconds.

"But let's hope this one goes better. Catch you on the flipside, Bavish." With that, She and her armored companion followed the receptionist. A man named Peer was his boss, she mused to herself. Painfully irony or clever naming convention . . .she wasn't sure. But by the way Bavish spoke of him, he had more clout, and thus perhaps more access to what she needed. "Kom ons kyk wat ons kan sien." She murmured to her armored companion. Maybe their luck was about to change.

______

A few soft chords strummed across the stuffy room as Sera plucked gently at her now repaired guitar. Testing the sound as she sat snuggled up in the corner of the room. The sound was gentle, a lover's kiss almost, full of soft passion imbued from her fingers. "Good morning." She said softly, eyes not straying from her guitar. "Did you sleep well?"

Rua recoiled at Terrel's sudden shout, stumbling backwards away from the bed. Relayia's head shot up, staring at the woman in alarm. "The hell was that about?" Rua asked.

"Mmm. About as much as anyone in Rogueport does," she replied. Which was to say, not at all. You either had to be an extremely light sleeper here, or not sleep at all. Fille finished brushing her hair and dismissed the hairbrush back into her inventory.

She pulled one leg up and twisted on the bed, looking over at Sera as she played her repaired guitar. "So do you have any idea how you're going to find whoever's in charge of Rogueport?" she asked politely.

"Hell if I know," Terrel muttered in blunt honesty, now flexing her fingers and cracking her neck as she began to adjust to being awake again. "Told you that you might not want to be here when that alarm went off. Ever since I started needing sleep in the game I've been getting the most bizarre dreams. None of it feels natural, though, and when I wake up it's always like I've just been pulled out of a frozen river." She remembered what that felt like clear enough.

"I'm good now, though," she added, sliding out of bed and onto the floor, touching her hip out of instinct before realizing the thing she wanted wasn't there. There was a small cove in the side of the room that looked like the place you freshened up at, so she made for it, turning her back on Rua to look in the dingy mirror.

She looked like hell, her brown hair still matted from dirt and sweat over the night before. Thankfully you couldn't smell anything because Rogueport itself stank much higher, but it was hardly an ideal circumstance.

"Find anything out while I was sleeping?" she asked over her shoulder.

---

The receptionist led the newcomers down the hall far enough until they reached an angle and a turn. Instead of following the hallway further, though, the woman opened the door into the larger corner office, sticking her head inside to announce her presence.

"I have them, Mr. Peer," she said, and the man she addressed beckoned them in. The receptionist held the door open for Bekka and George, but she would leave as soon as they were inside.

The man named Peer sat at a desk in the room, a terminal in front of him connected to dozens of displays all stemming from it and surrounding his person. Curiously, though, one might not have even chosen to call him a man at all, for his form looked almost entirely alien.

While humanoid in essence, his skin was waxen and his bones looked slender, large black eyes set in a pronounce skull with a thin mouth that seemed without lips. He did not look entirely sinister or malicious but neither did he seemed friendly or welcoming. Sitting in his chair, he stretched out not two but four arms onto the table, two hands with six fingers and two hands with seven. His large, black eyes watched them impassively for a moment, boring into them without so much as a blink, but he spoke in short order, his voice hollow and reverberating.

"Oh yes, you are a find indeed," he said, his thin mouth twitching into a grin. "Allow me to introduce myself--my name is Peer. I would shake your hands, but some people seem to prefer I stay seated. Quite the work your company did at the Stamarian Outpost. It takes quite the crew and ship to succeed as you did, do you not think?"