A/N: Sun Dancer, the author's shameless self-insert's somewhere!

Theawesomess1: Don't worry, Godfree's kidding. Besides, guy doesn't actually raise his [Strength] stats...
NetherOrbit: Asuna is always watching o.o...

Special thanks to DaManWOFear for his favorites and follows, love the support, man! Be sure to review, lemmie know whatcha think (Bad & Good).

Enjoy!

NPCs are the best, especially at tar pitting.

- Garr, June 7th, 2023

November 11th, 2022 - PoH

PoH slid down a stone chasm, looking back as his recycled team of twelve joined behind him. Even with fresh torches, their way remained as murky as swamp water, a pale green fog taking significant space. With natural walls formed and broken by tectonic motion, every sound bounced, leaving PoH's party uneasy.

"Still no mobs, weird." Adonis wiped his brow. "You'd think the place'd be crawling with 'em."

"Good." PoH stepped cautiously. "Though I hope something's back here. At the very least, some money."

"Bro, you've already given a good sum for charity." Sanguine shouldered his [Halberd]. "You can be cyber Jesus later."

"Why would I wanna be that guy?" PoH laughed. "There's a reason he was the last Jew to do sit-ups."

His crew laughed, filling their cave with mirth. Sanguine remained after PoH's first skirmish, Adonis too, one didn't.

"Say anything you want about this game, still beats work every time." Sanguine boasted, "I mean, since when could ya skewer a pig back home?"

"Would be if we weren't getting screwed by bots." a lean figured Adonis interjected. "Sensei's gonna kill me for missing class."

"You know what my solution would be?" PoH commented. "Us packing our shit and building a town or two of our own."

"It'd be cool, but sadly just making the townhouse costs what, five mill?" another spoke.

"That's insane." PoH grumbled, "Just like it's always been in the West, make all the good shit too expensive for us."

"Game logic." Sanguine shrugged. "Are we gonna get evicted? Then again, we've got such a huge reservoir of people. We could literally flood the governor's office, force him to call down his threats."

"With respawning [Town Guards]?" Adonis argued. "I wouldn't risk it. Got only one life, better attack something useful."

Strolling down unmarked tunnels, PoH looked up, gazing on a sediment encrusted ceiling. Looming over twenty feet in height, it left PoH breathing deeper, an overwhelming awe of scale. The natural, round pavement was moist, ceiling devoid of stalactites.

"Missing my folks right now." Adonis lamented, "Little bro's probably home, wondering where I'm at."

"As in stealing your shit?" Sanguine glanced.

"...he has a weird way of showing it."

Walking down a near pitch black hallway of stone, PoH felt his hands along moist cave walls, guiding his fingers along gently.

Mm...chocolate milkshake...medium please. No, large...

[From Argo: Hey, found anything yet? Trying to get some info on the Captain of the Guard.]

Snapped out of his moment of bliss, PoH's hands clenched for a moment, groaning as he read.

Dammit, Argo just can't sit still. I'm already worried enough that this path's gonna be a dead end, some nameless place the devs forgot to populate. She should already know I won't rush these things, not after last time.

[To Argo: Nope. Anything on him?]

[From: Wudramor doesn't look like other elves, that's all I got so far.]

To this PoH mustered a smile, an avenue for possible progress looking fairly close. An increasing depth and width of puddles, however, averted his focus.

"Oh great, please no underwater mobs." Sanguine grossed. "Can't even see past my shins!"

"Was thinking of chocolate milkshakes, you?" PoH joked.

"Big bag of warheads, terrible movies." Adonis chuckled.

"What kind of bad?" Sanguine laughed a little.

"The so bad it's good kind? Think Sharktipus."

"...Shit, now I wanna watch."

Water rose further, reaching past some of their thighs, near belt height of their shorter members. Feeling cold deposits pass above his knees, PoH shivered in his persistence.

Ugh, this better not be another dead end. I'd rather have real people in charge of town, but only if these bots prove too stubborn to change. Any replacement of Ilioc would be beneficial if you ask me.

PoH's followers watched him, as distant from them intellectually as a college professor in an elementary school.

My first speech to these people was weak, unpracticed. I'd hate to be the man going for the lowest common denominator, but where else could I start? These people come from so many different cultures, what would they understand of each other when some don't even speak a similar language? I've gotta bring them together, or simply appeal to the home court...and weed out the others.

After minutes of exploring, a foul stench engulfed them, disconcerting PoH's crew with its sudden arrival. Reeking of repugnant odors formerly unannounced, PoH's whole group stepped back, their eyes watering in protest as sense flooded their nostrils with taint.

"Christ, why's it smell so bad?!"

"Must be something here." PoH coughed. "Keep going, stay close!"

PoH waved his hand as he backtracked, stomachs clenching in response to olfactory repulsion. After a few measly steps, however, such a deplorable smell left, leaving not even a hint of its presence. Stopping his retreat, only a dark green abyss lofted before them, murky waters lit and reflected by three torches.

Something's not right, the smell should've followed me. Think someone wants to keep people out, clearly a generated barrier.

"Move up." he commanded.

Clamping his nostrils shut, PoH marched straight back, sure in his gamble to uncover more. Hesitant, his people followed in a similar manner, torches revealing a snot green growth beneath the water they tread. He moved through cavern depths so old its dust made blankets where webs once splayed.

"Hey, the heck's this?" a follower called.

Etched in green were symbols of unknown origin, stark in contrast against monotonous stone. Torchlight revealed them to be almost neon in hue, easy to see, their curvature smooth and archaic. With many spiraling tails, they largely resembled galactic patterns, many seeming to repeat with nuanced variation.

"Oh cool, you can even feel the pattern." Adonis checked, "Though red would've made more sense."

Progress yielded more symbols, scaling in their messages to smaller text. The present scent grew stronger, no visible sources to be found. Without a hint of entropy in sight, it further convinced PoH to concern himself with what he was wading through.

"Dude, I'm dying here." one moaned, "Can we hurry up with this?"

Just as he spoke, they were met with an end to their nasal siege. Sighing with relief, they were further greeted by double doors, whose texture was brittle, made of an oddly reflective stone.

Colored similar to asphalt, their dense exteriors were etched with various imagery. Runic symbols, creatures whose anatomy could only be described as too disjointed and nonsensical. To even imagine them as functional beings was hard to constrive, their phenotypes defying all natural laws. Limbs grew where they shouldn't, eyes misaligned, amorphous could describe a few.

PoH glanced twice at such artwork, feeling it with his fingertips as his party grumbled. Many bore somewhat human traits, but even an infant would look at these and know they weren't human. Some possessed abominable, seemingly vestigial limbs, splotched with mutation, tentacles bursting out of arms.

"Well guys, was nice travelling with ya!" Adonis drew a [Teleport Scroll].

"Adonis." Sanguine groaned. "Really? We just got here."

"Nah man, that's some Cthulhu shit right there. Gonna go back, get laid, fuck that."

"Hang on a sec." PoH held a hand up, "We could be saving lives here."

"Teleport, Town of Beginnings."

Without pause, one of their primary fighters was gone, taken by an encompassing aura of blue. Adonis left, their buzz cut MMA participant enjoying sunlight back at town. Others caved in to concern, their eyes focusing further on what both doors presented. Seeing this, PoH quickly stepped between them.

"Remember guys, this is floor one. You're all level seven, we can handle whatever's out here."

Everyone except me, that is.

Saying this left a punch in PoH's gut, remembering his first encounter with [Kobold Sentinels]. Nonetheless, his voice carried strength, rallying his allies. Swinging open doors of stone, PoH's eyes flooded with dust. An abandoned fortress, whose very pavement laid shattered, having broken themselves against an engineered test of time. Its ceiling hung with chandeliers of roots, dry and dead from trees long since passed. Tainted by primitive growths, concave walls were left stained a slimy...purple moss.

Of everything present, this flora stood out strongest. Their tips swelled like blisters, growing in patterns unrecognizable to relative species, discounting their absurd coloration. Stepping on these, PoH's crew found them to exude a moisture of mildly adhesive quality. Adonis himself swore their heads angled towards them, directing directly wherever they stood. PoH, however, wouldn't hear it.

A wave of warm, dry air brushed against them, almost like a human breath in its pattern. PoH's eyes widened, his mind spinning as they wandered further in. Like Castle Diebry, no torches were lit. Before PoH's eyes was a labyrinth, flawed engineering in full display. Many paths, all winding in different directions. With each tunnel only four feet wide, little insight could be made.

"So guys, which way?" PoH glanced back.

Remaining members looked to each other, none absolutely sure, but all afraid of being found cowardly. It hadn't helped, becoming aware of how stone surrounding the questionable plant life turned almost sponge-like. Squishing under their feet, it only added an underlying concern. One eventually nodded left, the long haired Spaniard nodding before continuing.

Further down, PoH spotted tunnels. Unlike Castle Diebry, however, these were matted with webs, wavering as air pressure shifted.

"[Kobolds]." PoH muttered. "Keep watch, guys."

"Someone got ranged weapons?" Sanguine glanced back

One drew a [Small Bow], readying an arrow. PoH tapped Sanguine's shoulder, his [Halberd] user following closely. Closing in, he heard something faintly. Whispers, conversation in dark places. Glancing back, he found no source, its source erased. His people were left uneasy, shifting about as they gazed sporadically to the alien growth.

"Something?" Sanguine nudge.

"Whispers, over there." PoH nodded further left.

"Clear?" more commented behind them.

Reaching a rusty hinged door, PoH nodded to his tank, staking his [Halberd], pivoting it. With weapons ready, they held position as PoH's squad filed in, last of course being their archer. The space crowded with eleven men, their shoulders mere inches from another's chest.

Standing right, PoH motioned one to open up, keeping steady as others moved position to allow a smoother process. A hinge creaked, something hissing as wood scraped.

"Stop." PoH huffed, "One's closing in."

"Let's mosh pit him then." one whispered. "Anyone got high [Strength]?"

"Yea." Sanguine nodded.

"Cool, you behind the do-"

A light splat of wet feet alerted them, a [Crazed Kobold] emerging from unspoken depths. Torchlight revealed a rodent whose fur was torn away, patches of its skin looking forcefully sliced into reptilian scales. Caked in green, snot colored dust, markings previously seen only on cave walls were carved on its stomach. Spotting them almost immediately from mere scent alone, it growled before drawing a [Warhammer].

"He sees us!" Sanguine hissed.

"The hell?!" one grimaced. "This thing's screwed up!"

"Bascogne, L'gtha ng'miya!" it shrieked.

Whatever it spoke, it sounded almost painful to pronounce, guttural in its unearthly utter. Everyone moved back, fearful of its bludgeon as it rushed towards them, nearly kicking one of them in a frenzied charge. Sanguine followed through, rushing the [Crazed Kobold] from behind, managing to pin it against a wall.

"Guys! Help!"

Comrades rushed forward, their swords and clubs pulverizing it in a matter of seconds. PoH remained passive, keeping watch as their first target shattered to glass.

This one isn't like the [Kobolds] above...what's he saying even? No mindful use of tunnels, no soapy smell. If anything, it smells as bad as the pond.

"Okay, that's one." PoH waved. "Let's move before it respawns or something."

Their gaze set to a lightless hall, bones rattling as they marched, whispered calls to one name, Bascogne. Every door had a viewing slit, wooden surfaces scrawled with intelligible lettering. Glancing in one, PoH was left in grave disgust. [Crazed Kobolds] sat in a circle, carving their skin only enough to form flaps, ripping out each other's fur from their ratty frames, caking each other with dirt on their snouts, turning them light green.

"Bascogne, L'gtha ng'miya. Dri'kdir M'virn Kra, Bascogne."

Some wore what looked like shoulder blades on their backs, flaps of torn skin wrapped around others. PoH veered his gaze, turning it to his allies.

"Cults...great."

They collectively shuddered, following PoH away. It became clear through further travel, however, such crowds weren't rare. Puddles of viscous cohesion clung to their boots, leading some to cold sweat, their eyes darting.

"Not liking this..." Sanguine muttered. "Not even the plants are right."

"We're gonna have to play this smart, they outnumber us." PoH shuddered, ignoring him. "There has to be something here though, something good."

His members looked to each other, discouraged. The doorway they chose opened inward, allowing for a two way approach. with paths on both ends cramped, it hatched a plan for PoH.

"Tanks, split up. Gonna bait them."

Ten fighters split to both sides, Sanguine placed left with his [Halberd] ready, chants coming past their door. After a few minutes of whispering, PoH slammed it open, catching at least twenty [Crazed Kobolds] off guard, feigning panic as he raised a lone [Dagger].

Hissing, they raised moldy, purple hued [Clubs], [Hatchets] and [Warhammers], lunging as PoH stepped back. Sanguine readied his [Halberd], not to stab their first foe, but to zone others. One rushed inside, his comrade stabbed behind him, leaving the leading beast to face ten players by itself.

The [Crazed Kobold] shrieked in distress, being stabbed front and back by equally frightened players, blood flying as it fell to their cold, sharpened blades. Mutilated kobolds behind Sanguine's [Halberd] forced themselves forward, Sanguine retracting his tool, letting another funnel in, PoH's archer lobbing a round past their zone holder.

Second rat was swiftly cut apart, but not before slamming one of PoH's members with a wide flying [Warhammer], sending a swordsman careening into another, [Dazed] from blunt force trauma.

"Wounded!"

Sanguine drew back, only to have two push through. A third rushed forward, but was quickly speared, pinned as his brethren rushed against PoH's men.

Swords came forth, axes retorting, one hacking a man's chest, HP meters flashing red as men recoiled painlessly. [Crazed Kobolds] swarmed in, a bestial tide sending many into further panic, some rushing back in fear of harm, others rushing recklessly forward. PoH witnessed with growing horror as cultists struck Sanguine's [Halberd], their axes digging into its wooden shaft.

"I can't hold 'em!" Sanguine roared.

"There's too many!" one screamed.

"Fall back!" PoH shouted. "Teleport out, now!"

Hordes of mutilated rats forced Sanguine to withdraw his [Halberd], opening way for their ilk to spread.

"Run!" one shrieked.

"Bascogne, L'gtha ng'miya!"

Seventeen remained, bursting through like floodwaters, weapons ready with obscenely crooked, gnashing teeth behind them, shouting a single name through their halls. It wasn't long until PoH's first casualty was felt, a boy's skull scattering like hard confetti, coating his allies.

Sights of unadulterated carnage broke their will, most breaking into full retreat, fearing for their lives as they drew [Teleport Scrolls]. Sanguine rushed towards PoH, waving him to keep moving, his damaged [Halberd] clung to his left. PoH fled in response with him, his men left to face the horde, their numbers growing as other cells smelled panic, eagerly rushing into to feast.

"This isn't even fair!" one shouted, the sound of breaking glass everywhere around them.

PoH and Sanguine stumbled from hall to room, finding only more of the same groups, albeit smaller than the first. PoH was speechless, mind locked as he followed Sanguine.

My people...I brought them here.

"Bascogne, L'gtha ng'miya!"

"Keep going!" Sanguine roared, pointing to a mossy stone stairwell right of a vaulted fortress room. [Crazed Kobolds] rushed PoH, only to be zoned back by a [Halberd] user's wide swings, fearing an ax's cut. The Spaniard raced upstairs, calling on his friend to fall back, Sanguine joining before pointing to an exit.

"That way?"

PoH looked with distrust, the path his partner chose eerily pristine. Its stonework was spotless, white and unaltered.

"Screw it, just go!" PoH roared, the two running down the path.

Air heated as they reached across, the door's hinges free of rust. [Crazed Kobolds] followed, stopping when they saw where PoH and Sanguine's destination. They whose skin was flapped like a reptile's refused to go further, stepping back even.

"Safe zone...let's go." Sanguine nodded, slamming open the next door.

"Wait, dude!" PoH called.

A chamber, a circle of stone half-pillars laid out in a clock like pattern, something stumbling about blackened corners. PoH followed the tank inside, both pausing to take in their new surroundings.

These pillars appeared to be made of obsidian, their surfaces crystalline like, with acidic yellow veins glowing intermittently from within. Pavement surrounding these pikes of Earth corrupted, a mush of green and brown rot, roots exposed like tendrils.

"Bascogne...thank you."

A heckle was heard, a kobold forming before PoH and Sanguine, its unholiness gripping their lungs like wicked barbs. A kobold was clearly its original form, but something foul had tampered with its very physiology, an insidious perversion of natural life made real. Patches of its snout were replaced by scales, a lone antelope horn growing behind an ear, twisted with hundreds of eyes peering out.

Its natural eyes were a solid yellow where it was once black, jaw still maintaining its mammalian lips, patches of flesh glowing like sunspots, dark pigments and burned hairs remaining. Its fingers were longer than any of the others, its legs throbbing with animate growths.

"Bulwark of the cosmos...giver of true sight, let them see."

[Field Boss: Cosmobold Miakane]

Without further word, it launched a miasma of bolts, green lightning spraying forth from hands, whose fingers extended far past natural limits. spraying out in a twisted, whipping fan.

"Holy shit!" Sanguine shrieked, jumping behind a pillar as stone and mud flashed and sparked, their forms warping when struck. PoH darted right, his black eyes widened, stomach lurching from such an abject disregard of physiology, cultists beyond the door chanting loudly in Bascogne's name.

"Illfang denies the power of the stars...ignorant for a king. Then again, who said he was a king? We are all serfs in the end."

PoH glanced around his cover, an abomination of malignant traits calm in his steps, almost sleep-like in his motions, waving his hands like he's rolling a ball between them. Its internal structures glowed, their effulgence shining through its fleshy, distended belly.

"No, the true king is sleeping. Sleeping past the coil of death..."

Without even a second's notice, streams of dark matter flew out, arcing like a whip as they flung PoH up like a doll, sinking back like a tidal wave. Sanguine rushed in panic, seeing PoH catapulted without warning, raising his [Halberd] and charging.

Miakane glanced, waving to Sanguine as he approached, unleashing a swath of water from its palm. Fluid splashed, Sanguine stopping as something gripped. His gaze averted to himself, yelling in surprise. A host of cephalapodic limbs were bursting out of his chest, stomach and arms, their psychedelic colors flashing like nerves as they reached up, grabbing and choking.

"Sweet Jesus, what the-!" PoH shrieked, thrown aside by another wayward bolt of hard darkness.

Miakane turned to Sanguine, raising its hands high and soft, as if praising an unseen being. Sanguine thrashed, grabbing and tugging what strangled him, their smooth texture sliding out.

"You must accept the gift before you can be freed...Bascogne saved us-"

Sanguine writhed, his face turning blue as he slowed, his red eyes turned to Miakane. Arcing his left back, he threw himself wide, the damaged [Halberd] sent sailing for the freak of nature, face paling as oxygen left. Miakane gasped, surprised by such a display of will, Sanguine's polearm hacking into his ribs with a profound crack. The defiled leader tumbled sideways, landing a few feet away on its knees. While wounding, the damaged weapon snapped, broken from its previous encounter with axes.

PoH rushed over, [Dagger] ready to assist his friend, only to hear a gurgle and crack. Tendrils wriggled, suffocating Sanguine with a final vertebral snap, sending him crashing down.

"S-Sanguine...?"

He froze, unsure how to respond.

"Stupid mortal, denying Bascogne's majesty...L'gtha ng'miya." Miakane coughed. "Illfang will get his soon too."

PoH kept staring, watching as tendrils dug in, giving birth to a new conscious. Sanguine didn't stay still. Rising back to its feet, a [Blight] emerged, tendrils brought forth from its host's eyes, ears and mouth, face pale and flesh dead as these cephalapodic arms flashed bright colors, sending PoH fleeing without a moment's thought.

"Yes, my creation! Slaughter, feed!"

No allegiance could be made, he who was reborn latching on and attacking Miakane with suction cup and brute force. Two beings wrestled loudly, PoH's eyes shaking, witness to what could only be described as eldritch, of an unknowable malevolence. There was no order in what was presented, only a sort of primal urgency, one whose influence corrupted his friend. He turned, setting his gaze on something else. A large crystal rested on a blackened pedestal, its white exterior sharp against the maddening dark. Infighting encouraged PoH forward, snatching it like a thief.

[Malishard Acquired – new options available.]

No time was wasted, PoH quickly using his [Teleport Scroll], vanishing as two malignancies clashed. Incensed by his creation's grapple, Miakane set off an all encompassing explosion of flame, immolating what was Sanguine internally, scorching patches of stone around it. Silence fell, the leader groaning a little from a gaping wound. Looking back though, his yellow eyes flared, head shaking wildly.

That elf took it...our holy artifact, our blessing from Bascogne!

Miakane called forth his minions, cultists rushing and bowing to their cosmic representative.

"The unclean have taken our savior's gift. Steel yourselves..."

PoH returned to town, stumbling out of its quad-pillared [Teleport Gate], pale faced and shaking. With pants soggy up to his hips, his shoes squished on dry tiles, staring bewildered at how indifferent everyone was. Breathing hard, his black eyes wavered, shielded by his hand from sunlight.

Out of eleven people, only three made it, including himself. Sweat poured, PoH stumbling to rest under a building's shade, eyes glued to his feet. Shivering, he drew what such sacrifice had granted him. [Malishard], a white, translucent gem of several points, resembling a chunk of quartz. Most curious of all, however, was a change in his menu.

[Stats]
[Inventory]
[Skills]
[Malishard]
[Settings]

The hell even is this thing? Why am I given this when what I wanted was for Sang to live?! Why'd he have to die?!

PoH's tears puddled on pavement, people passing by without so much as a glance. Whatever it was he held, it was warm, without a perceivable source. Visions of Miakane remained fresh, persistently latching on to his mind, strangling it from within, twisting in spite. Exploring what new options he possessed, PoH's eyes trailed down.

[Augmentations]
[Cognitive Linkage]
[Summons]

[Augmentations] brought forth a list of gifts he could acquire. Stats such as [Strength], [Agility], [Intelligence], all capable of being brought to superhuman degrees, for a price. Beside every option rested a meter, indicating [Integration], currently empty.

Accessing [Transformations] offered more, displaying images of monsters he could control directly, one of whom including [Gleam Eyes]. With it, however, came a warning. His body would become comatose while he take control of another creature, summoned at a random point of his current floor. [Summons] of course, were fairly self-explanatory. All granted by a lone, white crystalline solid of perpetual warmth.

Crying quietly in his corner, PoH contemplated further, putting the [Malishard] away. An hour passed before he rose again, his gaze remaining soft.

I can't use this...but what do I tell Argo? If she spoke of what I found, how long would it be till someone else came by, wanting it?

Sun Dancer

November 12th, 2022 - Lisbeth

Curled up in a linen bed, Lisbeth trembled, recollections of an aggravated escorting leaving her shivering. She clutched thin sheets, knowing time in her rented space was running out. Her sense of security was laid out, broken like peppermint beneath a mallet.

Just had to be steamin' again, huh? Banging good job, Rika. Pure barry.

Tossing and turning, Lisbeth continued berating, closing her legs tightly, crossing knees.

What was his name? Stupid, I had to do one thing and I couldn't do that!

She slowed down, her mind struggling as tears soaked her pillow.

Think, Rika, think. It started with a G, or a J? Oi, I can't sit here, not when I should return the favor. I don't know what would've happened if he didn't show up. Did he get hurt? Did anyone? No, I don't want drinks...but I'm thirsty!

Getting up sent Lisbeth in an immediate, instinctual rush, leaving her room at a brisk pace. Bottles captured her view upon returning to the ground floor, feet dragging at colorful green displays of liquid filled glass.

No, I don't need it.

Lisbeth's feet kept dragging, heart tugging to acquire.

[Balance: 21 Cor]

Okay, maybe a wee bit.

Only when she approached the tall wooden counter did she pause, staring blankly. Shaking her head, Lisbeth stepped away, forcing her eyes shut as she returned to densely packed streets.

"Calling all hands to Tolbana!" another shouted. "We need people to get us out, raiders please apply."

How am I supposed to find him? He could be any one of these gits.

A light clink of toasting glasses had her nearly swerve.

No, look for him.

Her eyes darted around, nervous as others passed, [Wooden Club] at her hip. Avoiding them, Lisbeth wandered in all directions, unsure where to begin her search. East of town, however, she found a [Temple of Cel] standing high above the morning sun. Standing tall among its single story neighbors, gold trim ran up its five story towers, lined with thick, reflective metal coils. Each of these keeps had a bulbous glass dome, resembling a light fixture with a pair of ball ended antennae sticking out.

From within, a soft chanting was audible, soft and melodic, its rhythm broken with finger born snaps. Entering left Lisbeth astonished, its floor lacking tiles or stone pavement, revealing instead a constant spinning of gears, cogs and metal arms, clockwork of an immense scale. A thin metal grate laid on top, allowing travel on its brass deck.

Engrossed with new sights, Lisbeth smiled at its splendor, pews of similar colored metal and red linen inserts, stairs of winding, smoothed wheels and gears constantly spinning.

Wonder if they've got any clothes themed like this, something cool too!

Steam vents sprouted beneath towering stained glass windows, their flurry of mist adding a tinge of mysticism to portraits above, of beings whose mechanical wings spanned great length, angels of metal.

"Welcome to the House of Cel, ungeared." one spoke, looking down at her from his stand.

Gyroscopic lenses covered his eyes, glass pieces readjusting themselves, ticking as they cycled different glass pieces. While below this rested nothing remarkably mechanical, it left Lisbeth with one goal.

I want those glasses...

She stepped closer, steam puffing out of little brass pipes, attached tightly to a metal box backpack on this priest's back.

"Sir, may I ask ye somethin'? Vague I know, but it's important."

The priest held a blank, perplexed expression.

"Do you have a name, ungeared? I am Cogitant Yole, I hold within me gifts of the All Time."

"Lisbeth." she blinked, "I'm lookin' for someone, could ye help me?"

A shaking of his head answered her request.

"You should speak to the miserable record keepers in Black Iron, their leader Ilioc refuses to follow His word. My duty is to preach, to bless in Deus Cel's step, not answer to the whims of Aramai. I see that your reputation isn't the best...perhaps you would be-"

Lisbeth sighed, nodding before bowing in thanks. Watching her turn away, Cogitant Yole glared.

"Where're you going? We can help you, baptism could assist you."

"I'm sorry sir, but me kind of help's not here." Lisbeth dismissed. "I'll come back 'ere later."

Cogitant Yole sighed, returning focus to his crowd. Looking back as she left, Lisbeth made way for Black Iron Palace.

Standin' so damn tall in their big house, talkin' to me like I'm a peasant. Reminds me of people all the time, actin' like they get it, lyin' till they get what they want. Still, wish I didn't have to look like such an arse.

Steady in her directive, she entered an imposing institution, surrounded by rounded iron, dark as coal. [Palace Guards] looked with derision as she waddled through, indifferent to Lisbeth's plain appearance.

"I've answered Aramai's demands for years, what more do you want?"

While Lisbeth couldn't hear this, a meeting between a spokesman and the governor had commenced.

"The committee feels the situation with your newest guests has interrupted trade, therefore our business. Ilioc, we'll buy you more time, as you've been a longstanding benefit to our hold, but know that your negligence damages our bottom line."

"I understand."

"We hope you do. Remember who allowed you to escape, general."

It took a good few minutes and a few directions from AI before she finally turned west, a wing in charge of bureaucratic processes. Approaching a front desk clerk, Lisbeth kept her hands cupped.

"Sir, may I please have a list of name's...starting with G and J?"

The attendant present fulfilled her request, generating a system generated array of names. With hundreds of entries present, such a colossal display left her overwhelmed, intimidated by its sheer variety. Names foreign to home, many simply the letter tied to strings of digits. All of them though, started with G.

J only worsened her resolve, a promised escape by bottle exceedingly tempting as her list of names grew beyond hundreds of thousands, any one of them possibly who she sought. Her eyes darted south, Black Iron's front door nearby.

How am I gonna figure out which is he? Less I pull a pure barry moment, I'm diggin' my hand in hay.

Her head tilted, short locks of curly brown hair shifting alignment. Kept aside by hairpins, a dryness had overtaken her mouth.

I feel fine, I dun need any. Read that list, Rika.

Breaks had to be taken, Lisbeth feet lifting in pursuit of quenching her thirst, forcing herself to stop, to focus again.

"Gi...nah. Gr, something. Gyro? Gore?"

This sounded close enough, hands shaking as she opened a message.

[To Gore: Hi, do you remember me?]

Waiting for a response only worsened her anxiety, the freckled Lisbeth twiddling thumbs as others passed on by.

What do I say to him, just thank you? Ugh, I oughta have at least a little bevvy before I talk! No way am I just texting a thank you.

[From Gore: What?]
[To Gore: Remember the inn?]
[From: No?]

Lisbeth without further questioning slashed the name off her list, moving on to others. Contact number two became four, five, ten as time progressed. None of whom she messaged replied back positive, some even feigned heroism, coming off as conniving and dishonest. Contact number three, however, was a different equation.

[From Gabe29: Beautiful, wanna chill? Your hero's lonely...]

[To Gabe29: No]

Something clenched in Lisbeth's gut, dismissing him as quickly as water rejected oil.

[From: Oh that's just typical, girls like you don't care when we're nice to you! Stupid bitch, you're gonna get used up.]
[From: I'm stuck in this stupid game, the least you could do for me is at least a date. I saved you!]
[From: You gonna respond or not?]
[From: Why were you being nice to me?]
[From: You're probably a fat ugly bitch. You'd be lucky to have someone like me in your miserable life, whore.]

[User has been blocked]

If I was drunk I'd still sign the restraining order, even if it came from the flying spaghetti monster. Sheesh, figured being trapped here would prioritize other things. Need a break.

Getting off her seat, Lisbeth wandered out of Black Iron Palace, sickened internally. Escaping into fresh air, she rubbed her face slowly, groaning softly.

Eh, think I vomited a little in my mouth from that. That guy was such a creep.

Minutes later, her hands gripped a pair of bottles, money spent with a new skirmish being waged within her psyche; to drink or keep.

Maybe...maybe I should try remembering where he was going...he said somewhere, ugh!

"Garr!"

A name was blurted, Lisbeth's mind immediately clicking into place, her focus turning to where it was directed. A group of four men stood, a black hatted swordsman, average height and weight swaying her source.

"Anthem come on, we can go to Tolbana if we just-"

"Ye know Garr too?" Lis approached, grinning slightly. "I know where he is!"

Her inquiry brought Anthem's ire, turning awkwardly to face her with grey eyes.

"Do you?" he frowned slightly. "Please help me, I've been trying to find him..."

A budding compassion flowered in her, frowning in response to his plea.

"Aye, it's okay." she nodded north. "He's hangin' out around the mountains. Gonna be headin' there myself, wanna come?"

Most curious to Lisbeth was what expression lurked on his friends. Raised eyebrows, looking away quickly from her as they whispered to each other.

"Oh thank you." Anthem bowed his head. "Sadly I can't go with you now, I still have some obligations. But here, I'll help you. There's a lone tower to the northwest mountains, was a nice place to chill back in the beta...least that's what my friend said."

"Huh." Lisbeth stroked her chin. "Okay, thanks mate."

Wandering away, her gaze turned north, towards a stone gate lying between themselves and what lurked outside.

Garr, that's his name. Was he steamin' when he typed that name? Well better call and check.

[To Garr: Good morning, do you remember me by any chance?]

Minutes passed, morning slipping away as she waited. No response arrived, not before a bronze bell rang for eight o clock. Birds sang as their digital sun rose high above town's stone walls, horseless wagons were dragged by multiple workers, red faced from exertion. As moments turned minutes, Lisbeth rose.

That tower's probably reachable by foot, I should make me way there before it gets any later.

Ogre King Murgul, think of the guy that won every bar brawl in the last thirty years against all of his building sized neighbors. We don't know where he is, and the major guilds don't want to. Could be the fact he wields a [Club] carved out of a meteor...and is rumored to be a master lightning mage, fun right?

- Argo, September 23rd, 2023

A/N: And she's off, running straight off a cliff-er I mean to meet nice people! :D

Hey everyone, thanks for the constant support. Been working real hard to ensure every chapter is of high quality (success of failure depends). Be sure to leave a fresh review, Awesomess and NetherOrbit have been very kind with them! Favorites and follows as always are appreciated, helps me know whatcha think of its quality!

See you next week!