Duff blinked, not quite positive what he had just witnessed. "That woz . . ."

"Very kind of you. Luir." Bekka said softly. "You've done us a favor, we won't forget it." She'd only ever been to the core once before, part of a tour of the game when Ma had first associated the unit with Y-Corp. But she did remember some fairly strict rules about weaponry.

"Lancy, make safe the guns." She snapped the orders off with practiced ease. "Sidearms only, and if you draw. You'd best have a hella good reason." She turned, tousling Duff's hair. "We made it, Duff. We made it." She whispered fiercely. "Nie sleg. Nie sleg at all."

They were still at dock? He was getting this sick, and they hadn't even left yet? Marcus sobbed and hung his head as he followed Sark down to his cabin, resisting the urge to vomit with every step he took. Something knocked into his arm, and Marcus staggered to the side. It was that creeper hunter Serbian dude, and he leered down at the slightly-green Marcus as the teenager struggled to keep his balance.

"Aw," the Serb said, "is someone's tummy getting upset? Poor lamb."

Marcus didn't really know how to respond to that, so he shrugged awkwardly and made to keep following Sark.

Edited by Quill on February 5, 2014 at 18:00:40

Bec staggered when Luir released him. Impossible. Bec repeated to himself, hands shaking. Now, more than ever, he had to know who Luir was, for she had made him feel, as the magic was used. Oh, there had always been a vague sense of fatigue after casting a spell, and a mild tingling sensation whenever the magic was used. Mere feedback from the game. But this had been vastly, wildly different. It had been exhilarating, bordering on painful, and nothing was ever painful, at least not here. He had never felt this before, and so the only possible explanation was that Luir had caused it.

Oblivious to everyone else on the deck of the ship, Bec moved himself just before Luir. "What did you do to me? I felt the magic as you cast that spell, but that should be impossible..." Bec had to restrain himself from yelling at Luir, or from grabbing her and shaking her violently, as well as that would have worked, considering his height.

Luir was tired. Even now, she could feel the presence of the Core welcoming her home, but it didn't relieve her. It invited her to rest, but that took the form of simply reminding her of her own weariness. It had been a long journey--one that had lasted several months--and now her form was spent. But it was not over yet, for there were still others to take care of before she could rest again.

One of them was talking to her now, though, and he seemed concerned, which meant she needed to be as well. What had she done to him? Certainly she had not meant to affect him adversely, but he spoke of things she did not quite understand. Even in her tiredness, though, something clicked--it was the only thing that made sense.

"You're one of the Forlorn, aren't you? You're trapped here, in this world?" The Outsiders were temporary--they were different than the rest of them and experienced things in foreign ways to her. But the Forlorn... they were Outsiders who could not leave this place like the rest of their kin. There was something unnatural about them--it might explain why he felt the way he did.

---

Sark turned around and made a rude gesture at the Serbian fellow while he walked. "Sorry about that one," he muttered to Marcus, not a fan of the bloke either. "He's a shape-changer, that one is. Turns into animals when he wants to kill something. I think the whole being-stuck-in-the-game could be getting to him." He glanced at his map, navigating the ship's corridors and turning into his room.

It was small, as most rooms in ships were, but it was well furnished enough; it even had a small fireplace, since he was a floor below the captain's room. Sark put the kettle over the flame and gestured to the only seat in the room, sitting on the cot himself.

"Don't mind them too much--they're rougher around the edges, but I think they'll play their part just fine."

Edited by Ribitta on February 5, 2014 at 22:59:27

There was a soft "clunk" as the gunship settled into the berth, the engines going from a rumble to a soft whine as they began their final cycles. Duff looked curiously between Luir and Bec, eyes narrowed at Bec's raised voice. He highly doubted the man would hurt her. But then, they'd just made it to the relative safety of the core, violence now would be highly ironic. And he was a firm believer in "what can go wrong, will go wrong."

"Bec, my short stowaway." He said, voice soft. "Back up just a step. Dun want any violence on my gunship." He said without hint of amusement.

A rather loud clatter of metal echoed through the now calming gunship as the armored George locked his rifle into one of the myriad arms lockers on board, taking a pair of pistols and belts, slipping on one belt around his own waist, and then tossing the second belt and gun to Bekka.

Somewhat surprisingly, Bekka didn't make a smooth catch of the sailing holster and weapon, instead fumbling at it awkwardly, clearly not having expected the weapon to have been tossed. She sighed almost out of embarrassment as the helmeted George shook his head. "Not a word, George." She snapped, slipping the belt on and looking to Bec and Luir.


Edited by Ajax on February 6, 2014 at 19:32:19

Marcus grinned and shook his head. "He wouldn't be the only one." He sat on the edge of the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Lots of people've gone nuts because of this stupid world. I mean, it's nice, but not being able to leave... I dunno." He swung one leg over the other, his foot dangling over his other knee. "I'm not much of a gamer," he said, shrugging as if confessing a sin, "at all. My friends pressured me into this; you know how friends can be. Looks like there was actually something in all that stuff about peer pressure, huh?"

He folded his arms and stared into the flame, the firelight dancing in his blue eyes. At least he still looked the same- his avatar matched his actual appearance perfectly. That was nice. The ship rocked again, and he shivered; stupid seasickness debuff....

If Bec heard Duff, he showed no signs of it. But it was clear that he had no intention of hurting Luir. Still, he was terrified. "I am..." He replied quietly. "But not many people call us that. Are you... one of us?"

Edited by WillowtheWhisp on February 7, 2014 at 5:13:54

Rua blinked, unsure as to whether or not he heard his companion say that right. She couldn't read? She looked older than he was! His eyes went wide at the revelation, and then he raised an eyebrow as his expression went into that of bewilderment. This had to be a joke of some sort.

But... so far Terrel hadn't been the type to crack wise or make awful jokes; he had a friend like that already and he could tell the difference. And...

It does explain a few things, he thought, as he remembered what quirks she has displayed so far. Like her distaste for the library itself, and her seeming avoidance of reading anything. He lifted up one hand and scratched the back of his head. "Seriously? You can't read at all?" he finally asked.

He wished this could be a joke. He could deal with awful jokes.

Terrel shrugged, not really sure what to say. "I mean... It's not like I don't recognize the letters, and if I see a word often enough I know what it looks like, but it's like recognizing a shape or a symbol. I don't see the letters the same way everyone else does." Gee, when she said it like that it made her sound so bloody special.

"The game helps a lot, though. Outside here, I can't do this:" Terrel selected the option to read something aloud and, without thinking about it, applied the command to the doorway she was standing next to.

"Rogueport," came the cool voice, and she blinked.

"Huh, guess we were right after all. Well, that's convenient."

She shook her head, remembering they were still talking about her deficiencies. "Look, it's not as big of a deal as it sounds, but, you know, better to find out now than when I've got to read some creepy tablet out loud to save someone's life or something..." Terrel trailed off, not sure where she was going with it.

Regardless, it was up to Rua now. If he just chose the Kallagulia portal and waltzed off, she probably wouldn't blame him.

---

"I am not," Luir admitted, frowning in thought, "and I'm afraid I don't have the answers you're looking for. Normally there are barriers between my kind and your own, but they seem to be deteriorating. The Core is a place of vast knowledge, however; perhaps you may find an answer within it."

She turned to Duff and Bekka now, preparing herself to depart them soon. "The Core is a very safe place, and they will not mind your bringing weapons inside. We've made this place safe not by avoiding danger but rather by using it. Abide by our rules here, and it will be of great profit to you."

She really was incredibly weary, and her home called to her impulsively.

"This is where we part ways," she said at last. "I cannot guide you through the Core, and you may not follow me." Luir paused, as if considering what to say next--it mattered a great deal to her. "If you need to find me, seek me out in the Temple of Light, here in the Core. I think your journey will lead you elsewhere, though."

She looked at the short man, not sure what to say to him as well. It had only been minutes ago they had met, but now it would end; perhaps they would meet again another time. Hopefully he would find the answers he sought, but it was beyond her powers to provide them now.

She glanced at the doors to the gunship, still closed. "I think I may need you to open these for me. This technology... It is not what I'm used to."

---

Sark snorted a bit at that, leaning back on his cot and closing his eyes as the water in the kettle began to boil. "Oh yeah, it's a right nightmare, it is. Even the people who liked the game in the first place are getting pretty seriously sick with it. Heard of one bloke who started dreaming in the game, only now when he wakes up, he thinks those dreams were the real world, you know? Can't tell the difference anymore."

The man leaned off the bed, grabbing a couple of cups from the bedside table and pulling the tea out of his inventory to prepare it. "But I mean, no point in worrying about that sorta thing. I've heard there's really nothing you can do to stop any of the side-effects. At least we got something to keep us occupied now, yeah?"

Duff and Bekka shared a glance as Bekka holstered the pistol. Some unspoken conversation sparking between their eyes. Finally Bekka nodded, heading for the door and opening it to the hanger, the smell of burning metal and fuel filling the air, a metal gantry sitting just outside.

She waved one arm, "There ya be, milady." She said with actual sincerity in her tone, despite her odd turn of phrase. "And. . ." She said almost awkwardly. "If you ever find yourself in a jam . . ." She held out what looked like a business card from her pocket. "Just hold it in your hand, and think my name. Some of us will come help. Just . . y'know, violence is our trade. In both worlds." She ended softly, knowing it was most likely not what Luir wanted to hear.

The card was actually something of an SoS beacon, crafted by veteran players, generally meant to allow for swift travel to a friend's location. But she knew the coding worked just as well for an NPC. And though she doubted Luir would ever have the need, or even the will to use it, considering what it would bring . . It was the only thing of Bekka's she had to offer.

"Seëninge vir jou, brand jou vyande." She intoned solemnly, hearing Duff echo the words a little ways behind her. "Blessings to you, Luir."

Edited by Ajax on February 7, 2014 at 7:24:54

Answers. She was right. He needed answers. He was terrified, not because of what may have happened to him during their brief connection, but what it had returned to him. In many ways, he hadn't felt human anymore, as if he were wandering in a dream. That brief glimmer, that tiny spark, had ignited a hunger within, and it was that furnace that scared him. Because the only way he had survived all this time, the only way he had kept his sanity, was by shutting away that which he felt as a human, instead existing only for his survival.

Bec sat to the floor in a daze. It was not Luir that he was afraid of; for just a sliver of a moment, he had felt exhilaration, even happiness. Could those truly exist, in a fictional world that threatened to end your life at every turn? He had not thought it possible, and it had helped him retain his sanity. After all, it was easy to tune out the loneliness, when one felt nothing. "...Thank you." he whispered quietly to Luir.

He looked over to Duff, then Bekka, though his eyes would not focus. Then to Lancy, then George. He felt a sudden, gripping fear, of leaving the only real human contact he'd had in weeks.

Luir accepted and stowed the gift, giving them a final farewell as she exited the gunship. Home had been a long time coming.

---

6-2-B. That was where this gunship was supposed to be. Peer had sent him the moment they got the alert of someone opening a direct gate into the Core; such a thing was quite rare. Even stranger was the fact that they entered in with the Luma code, something that nobody could make heads or tails of--so they sent him to investigate. The Core was not unfamiliar to him, but it wasn't his typical base of operations, so the whole situation was rather out of the ordinary when he thought about it. But even still, who was going to tell Peer no?

Parking in the Core was free, the assumption being that you probably had already sold your left nut in order to get there in the first place. No customs agents were there to come and rifle through your ship, since they did that on the entry scan, which meant he'd probably be the first person they saw. That was the hope, anyway.

As he approached the last door to enter the hangar, it opened in front of him. A dark haired girl walked from it briskly, keeping her head down and paying him no attention as he approached. She looked young and dirty enough to belong in a Stamarian prison, but before he could even think of catching her arm she was already past him. He'd figure it out later. For now, he had a gunship to investigate.

Opening the door, Bavish entered into the capacious hangar as if it were all his business in the world. He was not a heavy or imposing man, necessarily, but rather a big boned one. No one really looked twice at you because of it in the real world, but here sometimes you got looks because you weren't terribly pretty. It worked all the same for him. He had big hands, a big nose, a big head, and a wide shoulder-base, but it was simply who he was. With green eyes, slicked back black hair, and a sharp uniform--a white lion embroidered on it--he was kept quite sane in being himself. Project Theta was making him especially grateful for keeping things simple.

Inside the hangar he could see the gunship now, the doors opened to reveal some of its crew. He recognized the model, though it had already been identified at the gate, and he had a pretty good guess as to who it belonged to. Nevertheless, it was time to introduce himself.

"Make the flight all right?" he asked, his large lungs supporting a larger voice. "My name's Bavish Lye," he continued, approaching the gunship and raising out a hand, "I was hoping we could talk."

"Yeah, I understand that," he said, and he did. Definitely best of her to get that little revelation out of the way. And he could see how for the most part, she could get away with that sort of thing. If one knew how, anyone could redesign the starting interface so how they like it, such as how he had his hovering screens with a swipe of his hand.

Though that begged the question of how she reprogrammed hers without being able to bloody read. He shook his head. Not important right now, he reminded himself.

"Well... thank you for telling me," Rua said, sounding awkward. He certainly felt awkward. He lowered the book from his shoulder and shrugged before stowing the book back in his inventory, and held his hand out for Terrel to hand the other one back. "We can talk more about this later. For now, we should get the hell out of here."

There was a clicking sound as four separate hands settled on the butts of four separate pistols. Duff eyed the big man with curiosity, but before he could speak, Bekka interposed herself almost protectively between Duff and the large mister Lye. Though protecting which man exactly, it wasn't clear.

A quick bout of glares flashed between her and the armored form of George, his own mood made apparent by swift shoulder movements, rather than facial expressions. But finally the soldier side-stepped to Bec's position, taking up a slightly more obvious protective stance over the extremely short stowaway. The group seeming to have taken Bec under their umbrella, when faced with a new unknown.

"Flight went quite smooth, thank you." She extended a simple, boney hand. "Name's Bekka. How can we help you, Mister Lye?"

Edited by Ajax on February 8, 2014 at 7:35:22

Terrel happily returned the other book to Rua, glad to have it out of her hands.

"Get the hell out of here and go to Rogueport? Not saying I disagree or anything, but that place is going to make any danger here look like a real picnic. I've got no idea where this thing's going to come out at, but for all I know we stand a good chance of getting ganked right out the door. Not that we have much of a choice, I guess..." she trailed off, looking at the shanty door that was their next step in this bizarre quest.

She needed to tell Rua one last thing before they went ahead.

"Look, before we go, you should know a few things, okay? Rogueport is dangerous. Everybody knows that, but it's not dangerous like people think it is. People expect they're going to be mugged and shot in some dark alley, that they'll contract tetanus by slipping on their shoes, and that the Master of Thieves herself will steal their fortunes. And I mean, all those things can happen, but that's not what makes it dangerous; you'll find all that in the underbelly of any major city, but Rogueport's got something else: it's got a goal.

"The Mayor of Rogueport's got this thing where he'll pay you a small fortune for killing off an outsider. The whole city's got enough reputation that any time an outsider steps in, they're so paranoid they spend half their time looking over their shoulder, and they don't even notice the guy with the dagger right in front of them. Every thief comes to Rogueport once they think they're something. They think it's gunna be the next step up, the new level in the game, or the final frontier for stealing stuff, but it isn't. It's just the same crap as the Newdam slums or any other port city, except everyone's got this great motivation to kill you and there aren't any guards."

Terrel sighed, hoping she wasn't making him roll his eyes by blabbering on like this. The truth was she had felt nervous the first time going to Rogueport, and that was before dying in the game killed you outside it. You were a fool if the place didn't scare you at least a bit. The problem was that it was precisely the fear of getting killed that betrayed you as an outsider. Funny how that worked. She collected herself and refocused.

"I know I'm not the brightest, but when we go through that door I need you to follow my lead, all right? At least until we both know what's next."

---

The man's hand enveloped Bekka's almost entirely, and he smiled at her, "Just call me Bavish, please." Releasing her, the man named Bavish nodded to her companions, taking a moment to look them over, as well as their gunship, before continuing.

"I've been sent here on behalf of the White Lions to make sure you find your way in the Core pleasantly. I don't know what your business here is, but you entered the Core under a Luma Code, and that gunship just happens to match the description of one the Stamarians have been looking for in northern Kouchi. We were hoping we might be able to have a word with you, before they find you again." This place was not a Stamarian point of power, but they had eyes here. No telling what these folks knew, but their entry was about to be news across the whole Core by morning--well, if you could call it morning.

Rua grimaced at Terrel's worried news, and shook his head as he stowed the other book away in his pack. "So those crazy rumors were true?" he asked rhetorically. God knows that Rogueport had a slew of stories concerning it that may or may not have been accurate--this was a game, after all, and they'd all seen some pretty crazy things in this world. "Just my luck then."

The swordsman crossed his arms and leaned back, shifting his weight to one leg. "If you know the layout, go ahead," he told her. "I've never been there myself, and I've only got rumors to rely on. Anything I should keep in mind before we head into the fire?"

Bekka nodded firmly to Bavish, keeping her face as polite and impassive as she could. Calling on training from what seemed like years ago, but was more than likely only months. She knew Duff was technically the one in charge. Lancy and George followed his orders like they came from the Saints themselves.

But even the vaunted second in command of the unit she had once called home. . . no, not even Duff himself could know much about the game. It had never been his job. It had always been hers. So she prayed to whatever god that was listening that Duff and his two attack dogs would play nice and follow her lead.

"Bavish." She said firmly. "You and I both know these gunships are just tier-three machines." Referencing one of the many types of "skins" in the game for different weapon-sets. Different stats and abilities, but overall the tiers were all balanced equally, with their own strengths and weaknesses. She said a second prayer, trying to remember if her gunship still bore the markings it technically was allowed, signifying that it wasn't quite the most ordinary tier-three machine in the game. She was by no means a big deal in the gameworld. But the gunship itself . . .

But no, she was almost positive she'd scrubbed the markings. "The Stamarians are paranoid, yes. But we've no quarrel with them. Or the White Lions." She said pointedly. "Just a few travelers who needed to get to the core. May I ask why the Lion's have taken such a special concern over us?"

Bec shook the dust from his head. The forms of the shipmates that had passed in front of his eyes, just moments before, sharpened into clear bodies. He wasn't alone. He did not know them, and had no history with them, but in this at least, this venture to the Core, they were united. They weren't much in the way as comrades, yet, but they were the best he could do. He stood to his feet.

Bec pulled up his user interface with a mental nod, quickly opening the menu for messaging. Only a moment would pass, before Duff would receive urgent mail, the flashing icon blinking in the corner of his vision.

The message would read as such: "Will keep short. Luir probably not human, probably NPC. Strange that she can interface with player. Shared sensation, I felt game. Maybe because I am lost player. Maybe connected to game malfunction. Sorry. Bavish maybe here because of this, not sure. Ymaggion Corp. possibly worried. Careful."

"I think it'd be best if you played bodyguard for the time being. Don't say more than you have to, don't look at anyone too long, and definitely don't trust anybody. More important than anything, though: act like you own the bloody place. Act like you've lived there your whole life. When you hear some poor kid getting murdered in the alley across from you, just nod at the guys like they're doing the right thing. When you see some creepy guy stalking after us with a knife, stare him down and give him the finger. When someone asks how long you've been in town, tell'em you've been there long enough to know they were an accident. It's not a game to them down there, anymore--it's their identity. Be as insulting, rude, and demanding as you can, and they'll leave you alone."

Terrel sighed, turning herself to face the doorway. She was as ready as she'd ever be. "I'll go in first. Anything else you want to know before I do?" she asked, as if she hadn't given him enough to chew on already.

---

Bavish shook his head at the woman, not upset but not placated either. "'Just a few travelers' don't come into the Core under a Luma Code. 'Just a few travelers' don't high-tail away from a Stamarian prison. Maybe you're just the luckiest 'travelers' this place has ever seen, but you see how far you get on that one."

He looked over the gunship behind the crew, unable to place what seemed off about it. Maybe it was nothing, but he was no Tsuminar operative--that's what Duco was for, but of course he was never around when you needed him. There was no choice but to let it slide for now.

"You might not think you've got a bone with the Stamarians, but they sure think you do. I've got no clue what it took to get here the way you did, but I'd imagine there's a reason."

And, more importantly, a means.

"The White Lions don't have any issue with you. In fact, we're rather hoping we might be of benefit to each other."

Duff tried not to freak out, he really did, and mostly succeeded, though he had the sudden urge to slap at the air in front of his face and the damned blinking light that wouldn't go away. Fidgeting as he tried to do something about it without causing a stir.

Finally he found a way to make the light go away, bringing up a whole new problem of a HUD display that he still didn't like. It was on of his main complaints for the game, the HUD design might be well and good for the ... well, whoever normally played the game. But it kept on blocking his view of different things, and displayed no vital statistics as far as he could tell. After several more seconds and a few annoyed, hopefully not-too-obvious button-presses. He got the message to display and read it.

And then he really got confused. As he was trying to understand what it was Bec had sent him. Bekka was keeping a polite, business-like expression. Seemingly at odds with her own scruffy appearance.

"Five Travelers and the White Lions, in bed together? You're going to have to un-confuse me, Bavish." She said simply. "The Stamarians have no proof, and if they did, they'd have probably hired you to deliver the supposed attackers to them. Assuming they came down off their high horses long enough to hire Caliber contractors.

"We're here to get some info, maybe do a bit 'o shopping at the nicer establishments." She smiled extra-polite and bright to the big man, feeling Lancy and George watching behind, and Duff doing. . .something . . she wasn't quite sure on that, but kept her attention on the imposing White Lion.

Edited by Ajax on February 9, 2014 at 21:01:33

Bavish simply raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do the Stamarians need proof to dog some poor, unfortunate 'traveler' across Ymaggion? Or even a reason, for that matter? As for our business with them... well, let's just say that the Stamarians don't like outsourcing. Their loss, really, but hubris really can be a guardian angel sometimes."

The big-boned man sighed, letting his thumbs tuck into his waistband as he watched the woman carefully. From the corner of his eye he noticed one of the other, ruddier men fidgeting with what looked like his menu, but he paid it no mind, focusing all his attention on her.

"We're hardly asking you to hop into bed with us. Maybe you've spent too much time with the Stamarians, but with us an invitation is exactly what it sounds like. You said you're here for information? You just so happen to be looking at the biggest provider of it. And what's more, that provider also just happens to be interested in talking with you." The man lifted a large, sausage-like finger to point benignly at the woman, as if to make his words clearer.

"Just talk, Bekka. Nothing more. So what do you say? Take a ride with me down into the city? You can even keep the guns and point them at me the whole way, if it makes you feel better."

Bekka shrugged once, nodding. "Just talk. One of my guys comes with us though." She stated simply. Already working out who should go. Duff was still a bit distracted, and her immediate go-to choice for back-up in any situation. Friendship meant something, to Duff and her. And it was already telling that of everyone who'd come into the game to try and help her, it had been Duff. The man who professed to despise the game.

But in this case . . .she firmly wanted to split the unit, if she could. And was happy enough to know that Duff had chosen his companions well. George had grown up with them, and was taciturn as a brick with a speaking disorder. But loyalty and lethality he had in ample, ample supply.

"George, care to take a ride with me? We'll chat with Bavish. Lancy, Bec and Duff can make sure the gunship don't walk off. Get us some chow, supplies."

Next to Bec, the armored figure nodded simply. Indicating his agreement with the plan.

Behind her, Duff was only half-paying attention as he finally puzzled through the reply. He looked to Bec, his grey eyes confused. A moment later he managed to type out a reply of his own on the confounding keyboard. Shorter than he liked, but to the point. "Luir nice Girl. Bavish big. Things get dicey, will kill him. Y-Corp friends. Sort of." And finally after a moment he added on "Wot is NPC?" Before sending the message to Bec.

Bec pulled up the message before it could blink a second time, eyes tracking Duff's words. He was glad they were standing between himself and Bavish; he was not being subtle about using the user interface, now. It took Duff a bit to reply, and Bec had almost been worried that his own message hadn't been sent at all, or worse, it had been intercepted. He sighed internally, when Duff's did finally show.

"Non-player character. Y-Corp. controlled artificial intelligence. Tell George and Bekka to keep eye out." was his reply.

As she asked her last moment question, Rua was stowing his dragonet away in a deep pocket so she wouldn't get them in trouble. He only shook his head and waved Terrel on forward. "Lead on," he told his criminal companion.

They opened the door, revealing a monochrome portal of sorts, wavering like a heat mirage in a city during the summer. It made the view of the region beyond it vague and foreboding, but even then they could see no dangers present. They stepped through, the portal filtering around their bodies like water...

... and the first thing that registered to Rua was the smell of fish. Lots of fish, to the point where the place reeked and Relayia poked her head out from the pocket to sniff at the air. He blinked as the stench made his eyes water, having been completely unprepared. The heat was the next thing he registered, and that was something he expected. The place was situated next to a rainforest in Cher Plek, and was naturally both hot and humid--but lord, it did not help with the smell of caught fish permeating Rogueport! He hoped his sense of smell would adapt soon--it wasn't unpleasant and it wasn't rotting, but it was certainly overpowering.

He sniffed and rubbed at his nose as he looked around the area from behind Terrel. The place could only be described as a shanty town. A big shanty town built alongside and into a very tall hillside leading to the rainforest, but a shanty town nonetheless. Numerous closeknit buildings made up of wooden planks, corrugated metal sheets, tarps, and cloth sheets spread out across a maze of wooden docks.

There was rarely a building that was higher than a single story, and the planks that made up the structures were all unevenly cut, each with more nails hammered into them than was needed and a great deal of the metal that could be seen had been rusted by countless years of exposure to the sea. Nets and boxes and tables were scattered about on the walkways and decks that stretched out to the sea, and a whole bunch of boats were present.

And the place was loud. The sounds of several dozens of men and women could be heard through Rogueport. Rua thought it was that, combined with their doorway portal making it look like the two of them had come out of a partially collapsed building like scavengers, that made sure no one really took notice of their arrival in this infamous city.

"Charming place," he muttered so only Terrel could hear.

[[hurgh, sorry Ribs; I was up in the mountains and the blizzards made for one very stuck, very internet-less Quill lol]]

Marcus watched as Sark prepared the tea. People were forgetting which world was real? How could that be? He lifted up a hand and tapped open his pause-less pause-menu (he knew it must have some real, fancy-sounding name, but he didn't really care enough to learn it). There was his name, his build, his stats, his skills, everything that made his avatar him. The pixels that formed his body were even listed out right there; how could anyone lose sight of the fakeness of this virtual world?

"That's not going to be me," he said. "I remember the real world, and this isn't it. I have a family, you know? I mean, they stop by every now and again, but we're not exactly well off; they can only login with that government assistance program... this set isn't even mine, you know? My friends footed the bill, not me." He sighed, wishing that the tea was ready so he could sip it. He wasn't sure why he was talking like this; maybe because there hadn't been anyone to listen for a while, maybe because there was something about the small cabin and the warm fire that loosened his tonge- but for whatever reason, Marcus was opening up more than he had in... well, a long time.

"What about you?" He glanced up to Sark. "Any family back home?"

Terrel wrinkled her nose at the sight, at the din, at the smell, and responded with a sarcastic tone, "Top tourist attraction, I hear." It had been a while since she'd been here, and she had almost forgotten just how busy the place could be. Even now, as the day was coming to an end on this side of the world too, boat upon boat still taxied into the harbor, the crewmen shouting profanities at one another. The docks could be one of the most dangerous places for outsiders, because, well... Where else was an outsider going to come in from?

"Check out that ship over there," Terrel nodded in the direction of the docks, lifting up a finger to point at what looked like a small cargo vessel. The master of the ship had disembarked already and was on the docks, talking with someone from the Port Authority; the conversation didn't seem to be going well.

"See how he's glancing over his shoulder every couple of sentences, but not looking at anything in particular?" she asked thoughtfully, a slight grin creeping across her face at the sight. "Oh, here we go." The rest of the shipmaster's crew were pulling the cargo onto the docks, but Port Authority was intervening, kicking and prodding at the wooden crates, much to its owner's displeasure.

"Here it comes," she muttered.

The shipmaster turned around with frustration, apparently raising his voice at the men harassing his goods. The way he jerked back and forth between aggressors spoke of panic, clearly at his wits' end. Exasperated, the man rushed over to his cargo, pathetically trying to defend them with a mixture of pleadings and shoving motions.

Bam.

The gunshot split through the din of the docks. The shipmaster's body had slumped to the ground, blood pouring from the wound in his head, and the man with Port Authority stowed the handgun casually. Already people were back about their business, and Terrel realized that had probably stood around watching for a little too long.

"Well anyway, we need to find some new clothes," Terrel said at last, "how you walk is more important than how you dress here, but it'd still be a good idea all the same. Just keep close, yeah?"

---

Bavish nodded easily at the woman, mostly just pleased she wasn't going to stand there stubbornly for the rest of the day. "Great," the man said with a smile that spoke more of long-suffering than happiness. "I'll wait for you outside the airlock. Feel free to take some time, plot my demise, and join me when you're ready, will you?" Raising a hand to the men he didn't expect to see again, Bavish left the room to wait for Bekka and George outside.

---

Sark thought about the question longer than someone probably should need to before responding with a shake of his head, "No, not really, I suppose." He didn't sound terribly sorrowful over the statement, though. The kettle began whistling behind him, and he turned to manage it.

So the kid wasn't even really a gamer, then? It was funny how that seemed to work. The people who got stuck often seemed like the ones least deserving of it. For the rest of them, the ones who couldn't get enough of the game so they simply had to play as they slept, there was a certain amount of poetic justice in their sentence. And then there were people like Marcus, who got stuck in the middle of the addicts and the drug.

Handling the kettle, the man poured the tea into a pair of cups, offering one of them to the kid and drinking generously from his own. "Did you just start playing when the Theta business kicked off, then?" That was the worst fate of them all. Not only did you get stuck in this bone-crushingly dangerous world with real stakes, but you had no time to learn how it worked without the learning curve.

With a grimace, Bekka waved George forward. Things were happening faster than she liked, especially considering she had to shepherd three relative noobs around. Time to talk, to see what Duff's orders actually were . . .that would have been nice. But time waited for no man, or woman, she reflected glumly. "Duff, Ons sal terug wees. Bly ysige."

She clasped arms quickly with him, happy to see his focus latch onto her for at least a few seconds, and happier still to know that the game was good enough to translate facial expressions. Words unspoken, yet fully felt, crossing between the two.

He squeezed her arm gently, and then she was off. Striding out of the gunship, the wafting smell of grease, the pinging of the engines as they cooled down filling her nose and ears. The armored form of George, head still covered via helmet, strode along behind her. An icy, reassuring presence. "Alright, Bavish." She came up next to the White Lion, "Let's talk."

___

Back in the gunship. Duff watched as the gunship doors closed again on Bekka. Forcing himself not to punch something. Oh, she was a tough girl, he would never doubt that. But he didn't like the fact that they were moving so quick. In the physical world, it was par for the course. But in the physical world, people couldn't conjure a dragon to eat you.

He swatted at his screen again, reading the message from Bec. Then sighing dramatically. "Oi, done with the dumb dumb screens now." He growled. "Luir seemed nice enough, why do you care if she's part compy?"

Rummaging behind him in one of the arms lockers, Lancy poked his head up. "Eh? What'cha two going on about?"

"We can talk when we're sitting," Bavish replied, "if you don't mind following me? I have a transport down a level waiting for us. I'm sure you'll find our station in the Core suitable--much more influential people than myself work there, after all." If they would follow, he would lead them to it, talking all the while.

"The Core is the largest city in Ymaggion, in case you didn't know," he commented, enjoying the chance to give a history lesson to a hapless bystander. "On foot, it would take you twenty to thirty hours to travel from one length of it to the other, it's so big, but that's what the shuttles are there for. The amazing thing, though, is that at any given time there are probably only a couple thousand actual players inside the Core, compared to the millions that play the game."

Bavish looked at the pair of newcomers keenly. "You can imagine why people might be interested in how you got here."

Bec shook his head. "It's not so much about what she is, so much is it about what she did to me. When we connected to open the portal to the Core, that connection was not superficial. Most everything within this game does produce some sort of sensation, to mimic true feeling. Duff, I've cast hundreds if not thousands of spells, so I'm pretty used to that 'feeling'. What I felt must be what she experiences, as an entity of the game itself: when we made that portal, I truly believed that I was using magic. It was an ecstatic bliss, almost bordering on pain." Bec frowned.

"The system should not be able to establish that kind of connection to a player. I think it might be somehow connected to why myself, and so many others, are stuck here..." his voice trailed off.

Rua could only shake his head as he followed after Terrel, with loose planks rattling under their boots. The setting sun set a yellow-gold sheen on the shanty town and the two of them slipped through the crowds. He kept a watchful eye out throughout their trek through Rogueport, doing his best to look like he belonged there, and glaring at anyone who looked at him otherwise.

The swordsman could see how Terrel was right--they certainly didn't look like they were from around here. The people here were clad in loose trousers and colorful vests that showed off sun-darkened bare chests on the men and plenty of cleavage on the women. Hair was pulled back and kept under bandannas of equal colors, and they all wore sandals on their feet when they did not go on barefoot. If they wanted to look truly fit in--well, if Terrel does, I'm pretty shit out of luck, he thought, noting his Zailleon character origin for his online avatar--they'd need to dress the part. Though he thought he could get away with looking like a hired tough of Terrel's.