Brokenthorn Lumber INC

[Taskmienster]

The First Half, this is the continuation. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?p=110340#post110340)

The bright day had dim, ragged thoughts tearing at its attempted serenity. The sun was high overhead, filling the world with a soft light and a delicate touch of spring warmth. Not a cloud in the sky could block the heavy sun, slim wisps of clouds barely painted across the crystal blue background was all that presented itself. A cool breeze shifted and danced across the pale green grass and the multicolored wildflowers of the plains. Under the hoof of the horses it crunched softly as if it had been a week or more since the last rainfall. It was all peaceful, picturesque in its overwhelming simplistic grace. But the minds of the traveling company were hardly at ease.

Ethan “Lars” Calhoun walked besides his horse, holding the reigns tightly as if it was going to run off in some blind rampage. The beast was as docile as any horse could be. Its lazy eyes were set to the ground. Head bobbing up and down with every step as it chewed on grass now and then. Those teeth kept coming into view, huge pearly whites that made the hacker and forced hero uncomfortable. He hated horses almost as much as cows, or goats. The reason was unexplainable to Althanas, dealing more with the childhood of the virtual reality player behind the scenes.

“If yer don’t get back on the damned thing we’ll never get ta town, an’ then how are yer goinna tell the queen wass going on in Olme?” The guardsman’s mocking smile caused the hackers frown to deepen. The man had done nothing more than mock his insecurities regarding the mode of travel since they had left the town days before. “Come on, it won’t bite much…”

“Fuck off, stupid backwoods piece of shit…” he muttered as he awkwardly mounted the horse. It danced a bit as he attempted, forcing him to stop twice before truly getting back in the saddle. His jeans tightened, as if the girl jeans weren’t tight enough, and rose above his ankles. Lars shifted back and forth in the saddle trying to be comfortable and get more of his jeans to fall to at least his ankles. Neither outcome yielded itself. He sighed and shook his head, another half days travel and they would be to the gates of Scara Brae… only a little bit off schedule. “Don’t know why I’m even doing this shit… better get one hell of a reward.”

The guardsman chuckled and lightly tapped the reigns of his own horse. Lars followed his example and was given the unsatisfactory gallop in return, causing his crotch to tap the top of the saddle. In the end it would be worth it, for himself and Travis (his companion) both. The two had unwittingly stumbled across the unlawful lumbering practices of the Brokenthorn Lumber Inc., also seemingly run, funded, or protected by the Scara Scourge. It was a devious and profitable little controversial situation the hacker had been put into.

“How much longer till we’re done with this part? I want something to drink and a damned cigarette… not to mention a good night’s sleep.” Ethan’s blue-gray eyes looked towards his partner Travis for word on how much longer it would take. He doubted he would know either, but voicing his whiny thoughts made him feel a little better.

It would be a long and hard battle of words in the coming days for the group from Olme. They had to go before the assembled symbolic parliament and the queen and protest against the Brokenthorn Lumber company. The word they brought would put them in danger, hence the guardsman’s escort from Olme, but it would also put an end to the logging. The company had already started its endeavors, apparently without the proper licenses to do so. If it had not been for Lars and Travis and their mishap upon the logging company while looking for a lost boy, nobody would have known. And if it hadn’t been for the small battle between Lars and a black robed man, the involvement of the Scourge would have gone further unnoticed.

Both sides would take unkindly to the overwhelming evidence that was soon to be brought against them for sure.

[A Nony Mouse]

Horses, Travis thought as they plodded along toward Scara Brae. Fantastic. He and Lars had uncovered an illegal logging operation being funded by the Scara Scourge and alerted the authorities in Olme. However, apparently Olme thought it best to alert the authorities in the capitol and so here they were, heading off to meet the queen. Travis didn’t understand why they both had to go; Lars could have gone and explained the situation while Travis met up with his friends at Valeena Lake. Though delivering this information was important and Travis couldn’t rationalize ditching his new companion.

“How much longer till we’re done with this part?” Lars whined from the saddle of his horse. The two travelers were not riders by any stretch of the imagination and each would most likely have his fair share of bruises tomorrow.

“We should be there tomorrow,” Travis answered. “We’ve been traveling for five days and the soldiers in Olme said it would take six total. Hopefully we’ll be there soon…” his voice trailed off as he saw their guard stopped up ahead of them. This can’t be good, he thought as he dismounted. His legs felt wobbly underneath him, but he made his way over to where the Olme guardsman stood and asked what was wrong.

“A sign,” the man said and he motioned over the hill just in front of the group. Travis sighed deeply and walked with Lars to the crest of the hill to survey the scene in front of them. What he saw frightened him.

[Taskmienster]

Lars huffed and muttered disgruntled little quips aimed at the guards. The one behind the characters mask was Collin McFerrin, a genius hacker with the mind and drive to do just about anything on a virtual world like Althanas. Collin hated horses, so Lars hated them too. Being asked to remount the dirty, uncomfortable animal only to dismount moments later was something of an irritant. “What the hell is so bloody important that we have to…?” His words stopped before he could finish venting.

The ‘sign’ that was given to the small group was hardly encouraging. Down the small sloping hill were two wagons, one tilted on its side with a small fire beginning to catch. Supplies were strewn around the fallen wagon as if it had puked them out. Surrounding the vehicles were three men clad in a spattering of leather armor with small daggers held at hand. The chaos was being caused by six figures wearing black, armorless attire. Ethan had little doubt they were part of the Scara Scourge, villainous bandits waiting to prey on the weary traveler.

“What the hell kinda sign is that?” Lars asked as he popped two daggers into either hand from up his sleeve. The convenient device pushed daggers from the holster in either sleeve down his arms by a set of springs and a small lever. It was only a quick twist of his arms and a tap at the sides that was required to shift from defenseless to armed and dangerous. “Those men are gonna get fuckin’ killed…”

“It is notta good sign, I’ll say that much.” The guard stood and waited. One hand was holding the reigns to his horse, the other resting on the pommel of his bastard sword. He looked about as ready to fight as a Mormon was to get drunk. “Now what?”

“Shouldn’t we help them? Civic duty, assisting the helpless… don’t you fuckin’ guards swear to something like that? I mean, those have to be Scourge, right?” Lars’ tone was hardly emphatic, but held a bit of remorse to it. He was not ready to watch people die without any assistance being given to them. Normally he would care less, but with the battle against the black clad scourge in the lumber facility fresh on his mind a vendetta had formed. “Let’s go!”

“Nay,” the second guard on the horse responded. “There are six of them, only four of us, if you two die than we’re going to see the Queen for nothing. Shouldn’t waste our time.”

“Fuck that,” Ethan said. He tossed his reigns to the mounted guard and started down the slope. If they saw him coming he could have a fair fight, if they didn’t he’d tear a few of them apart from behind. They weren’t outnumbered by far, three defending already with four more to help put them at an advantage. The hacker couldn’t figure why the guards were so chicken shit scared. “Stupid cowards… couldn’t find a kid, now can’t even fight. No wonder the Scourge just walks all over this island.”

[A Nony Mouse]

As Ethan stormed off down the hill to help the travelers, Travis took a moment to think. Never in his life had he killed and man and within the past few days, he had witnessed several murders. One even by his own hand. Lars was changing him; being around the strange man made Travis start acting like him. Soon he’d start repeating the bizarre phrases the other man was known to use. Fight for the caravanners, he told himself. But don’t get carried away.

He readied his cypress pole as he stalked down the hill toward the Scara Scourge. With Lars just ahead of him, Travis knew to expect a vicious first strike. The Scourge had their backs to the two adventurers and so the two kept silent to press their advantage. The flame consuming the overturned wagon flickered and danced in the light breeze, sending plumes of dark smoke into the air. Travis felt the uneven terrain through the leather soles of his boots and adjusted his steps accordingly. One false move here could blow their cover.

As Lars angled off toward one of the Scourge members, Travis silently judged the distance between him and his closest adversary. Three swift steps would close the distance enough for his pole to connect with the man’s head. He saw Lars release a dagger and decided to act. As the blade spun through the air, Travis lunged forward. His foot hit the third step as the dagger sunk into Lars’ target’s flesh. The man screamed and Travis’ target began to turn. His pole arched through the air, time almost at a standstill as the cypress wood raced to close the gap between it and the Scourge’s head.

With his full weight behind the swing, Travis was not surprised to hear a sickening thwack as the pole struck the man square on the nose. Blood spurted out as the Scourge member recoiled, his arms flying up too late to protect his face. Planting his foot a step further, Travis readied to swing the pole again, but the man went down before he got the chance. Clutching his face, the man knelt down with his hands in the air. One down.

By this time, the caravan guards had realized just what was going on and they joined in the fray. Two of the lightly armored men rushed the nearest black-clad man and began attacking vigorously with their knives. The Scourge member fought back just as viciously, but was forced to yield ground as he did. Confident that the two men could handle their situation, Travis turned his attention to the enemy closing in on him.

Sword raised high, the man attacked. Travis was caught slightly off guard and was forced to use his pole to block. The blade bit into the wood, but the pole held. Sweat beaded on the adventurer’s brow as he pushed against the weight of his adversary’s attack. For a moment they remained locked in a stalemate, but then the man keeled over suddenly. The grinning face of the third caravan guard greeted Travis; the man had knocked out the Scara Scourge member.

Travis saw that the other two guards had forced their opponent to surrender his weapon and so he turned his attention to Lars. If his companion needed help, he was ready.

[Taskmienster]

The cowards could stay behind; fuck them and their stupid bull. Lars was furious. Protecting the innocent and weak was not his calling card, but if they were in the way it was going to be the least he could do. Besides, the weak and innocent normally had the best rewards in the end… right? Take the case with the lost kid for example. They had not expected to gain anything out of it, and in the end Ms. Sombers really had not given them anything. Instead of material gains they had been given a new mission, one with even more monetary gains than anything and the ‘respect’ (whatever that was worth) of the nation’s militia and people. What could go wrong with helping out traveling merchants?

The question wasn’t answered, either by his thoughts or by any who might be able to read his thoughts… what little possibility there was of that. Instead he was given the prime opportunity to attack an oblivious opponent. Lars was not so cautious as his partner. Taking noise into effect, wondering whether he would be heard, slow deliberate steps; they all were ignored for the simple initiation and finality that would come from his first attack. He wasn’t a sneaky person, didn’t care for it much or think about it. If the man turned, he’d have a dagger in his chest instead of his spine, either way the end result would be the same.

As he closed the distance, annoyance with the guards fueling his desire to fight, he let a dagger fly. The blade didn’t twirl end over end like everyone else that threw them, but straight and in an awkward sideways spin. The glinting steel surface flew straight, wavering a little in the air thanks to the breeze and what little skill he still commanded with the ability. The blade reported its success through a vivid flash of crimson blood. It sprayed from the unsuspecting Scourge, his scream from shock and pain following closely behind.

“Fuckin’ twat,” Lars cursed as the man turned and the hacker lunged towards him. His secondary dagger plunged into an outstretched arm, affectively halting the wide arching swing. The black clad member of the gang dropped his weapon as the nerves in his arm jolted pain from shoulder to finger tip. In that second the hacker threw a hard right hook and caught him in the jaw. It was a strange crunch that echoed. A long time had passed since he had broken a man’s jaw, be it in a game or Collin punching in real life. “What the hell are you doing? Fuckin’ up, that’s what…”

“Oh thank you!” One of the lightly armored supposed merchants said with a beaming smile. He rushed towards the hacker. Instead of continuing talking he boot a boot in the fallen man’s face, crushing the other side of his already cracked jaw. The black clad figure’s head jerked in a sickly motion. Lars could only assume his neck was shattered by the fierce kick. The man kicked in a few more times while the hacker looked away.

Another man was down, blood streaming from his nose and painting the emerald grass a deep rose color. His eyes were rolled back, showing only whites while his body was still twitching slightly. The two other caravan men battled back effectively and forced their opponents to surrender. Travis was disposing of a second victim, leaving… “There you are fucker.”

The man had moved during the fray to the side of the upright wagon. His arms were over the back of the vehicle, digging through the items. Every once in a while he would look over his shoulders, and when his dark eyes met the yellow streaked eyes of Lars he paused. His arms came out of the wagon and he was holding his short blade at the ready. Lars wasted no time, charged forward and let the blade lunge towards him. It was a swift, but stupid movement. With his left arm Ethan wrapped up the outstretched arm, and with his empty right hand he punched as hard as he could at the man’s shoulder. His body rotated forward, and as quickly as it did the hacker put his knee into the elbow… snapping it backwards.

The man writhed on the ground. His dagger was laying off to the side, his unbroken arm scooping up the shattered bones. Lars gave him a swift kick to the ribs and felt his heavy leather boot sink in, felt the ribs give way. “What the hell is going on here?” The man was oblivious to the questions. Lars stepped on his hand and planted the heel of his boot further into the broken joint. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The man passed out, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth. Too much pain and anyone would pass out. The hacker shook his head and turned to the closest of the leather clad men. He asked him the same question, with a much softer tone and through heavy breaths. “We saw the fire, and that you were surrounded, what’s going on?”

[A Nony Mouse]

“What’s going on?” Lars asked the men when they had all reassembled near the smoldering wagon. The fire had almost nearly burnt itself out, having burnt through all its fuel. Travis saw everything in the wagon was charred beyond recognition. One of the guards stepped forward and explained their situation.

“We came from the city with our weekly delivery of supplies for the village of Olme,” the man told the two travelers. “The queen and her councils recently had talks with the Brokenthorn Lumber Company and we wanted to deliver the word to the people down there.” One of the other guards stepped forward and interjected.

He tugged uncomfortably at his armor and wouldn’t meet Travis’ or Lars’ eyes, instead choosing to look at the ground. “Th-they were here, waiting for us or something.” The man’s eyes darted about awkwardly as he spoke, “Like it was pl-planned.” When he finished speaking, he stepped back behind the first man and relaxed slightly.

The first guard continued the story, “Like he said, they was waiting for us just down the road a bit. They shot the wagon with flaming arrows and then came in to attack. We tried outrunning them, but they got us anyway.” His eyebrows dug together in the center of his face as he thought for a moment. “Seems as though they was after something in particular,” he reasoned. “But I’ll be damned if I know what… can’t recognize anything now.” He motioned to the burnt wagon and shook his head solemnly.

Lars walked over to the wagon and began surveying the battlefield. Travis watched him for a moment and then remembered their escort from Olme. He trudged back up the hill to find the man who had their horses, leaving the three guardsmen to their own devices. This Scourge is incredibly well-organized, he thought as he walked. Burning down taverns, attacking lines of communication to Olme; there has to be something bigger than a logging operation going on here. He crested the hill and saw their guard sitting on a stump with the horses tied not too far away. “Come on,” he waved the man over and explained what had happened. “Bring the horses.”

As he returned to the overturned wagons, Lars returned to the group and whispered in Travis’ ear. “Fucking hell, I miscounted,” he admitted. “There were six damn Scourge and I only counted five bodies. Shit!” Travis quickly scanned the area to verify the man’s words. He was right.

“And we didn’t see anyone with a bow; the guard said their wagon was shot,” Travis added. “That means an archer is out there somewhere still.”

[Taskmienster]

Still out somewhere, waiting and watching? Lars doubted it. He had seen six men surrounding the wagon from the hillside, but only five bodies were present. The last one must have run off during the chaos, taking his chances at gaining distance from the new coming warriors and the rallied merchants. It made sense to the hacker, but he was still angry that he hadn’t seen the man escape or paid attention during the fight. “Yeah, somewhere there’s that other guy and he’s gonna be a bitch later on. Just keep watch and we should be good, but fuck… we could die at any time, fretting over an arrow in our back is just going to make us paranoid as hell.”

Lars walked back to the smoldering wagon and shook his head. Papers turned to ask held their original shape till he tapped the edge, allowing them to fall in flakes to the ground. The light breeze picked up the flecks and carried them away. “What was it they were after?” The musings of the hacker carried his attention as he fingered through ash and used a dagger to push aside the still smoldering pieces. It looked like normal sacks of grain, papers that had who knew what on them, and a few scattered person belongings. Whatever it was they were after, it wasn’t clear… but Ethan and Travis had done a civic duty.

“Good job,” the guard commented with his head shaking. “Couldn’t have done it better. Now hurry and mount, we wasted enough time.” The Olme guard obviously hadn’t heard where the men were going, or if he had he was truly useless and stupid. “Word was sent ahead of us, we’re supposed to be there already… and at the pace we’re going between yer riding and havin’ to jump to the rescue we’re running late.”

Lars moved away from the ash and towards the still mounted man. His blue gray eyes were half closed, brows furrowed in anger. "I know you couldn't have, you stupid useless waste of a person..." he muttered. Without looking down he grabbed the hilt of his throwing dagger and tore it out of the back of the fallen scourge. The pool of blood on his back was affected very little, only spreading slightly more. The pungent smell of metal and sour sweat filled his nose till he moved away from the dead man.

“Look, these guys we’re lookin’ for something, these supplies and word from the men was going to Olme. Doesn’t this seem to be fishy to you? Or is it just me that’s getting a weird vibe?” The guard shrugged and apologized to the leather clad men. There really wasn’t much else to do, just let the men go on their way with the one remaining wagon. “Fine, let’s get moving I suppose… but we’ll have to do something about the two that surrendered, right? Kill them, or tie ‘em up and send ‘em back to Olme with the guards?”

[A Nony Mouse]

“Tie them up,” Travis responded to his partner. The two Scourge members still alive could be useful in questioning; they couldn’t afford to kill them. The three caravan guards nodded and began securing the black-clad men. The adventurer looked to Lars and shrugged, “Back on the horses?” Lars groaned, but both men knew that they had little choice if they were going to make it to the city on time.

“Fuckin’ animals,” Lars growled as he mounted the calm steed. Travis chuckled at his friend’s feelings toward the horses and climbed on his own. Their escort from Olme rode out in front of them and the docile beasts followed his mount.

Looking back over his shoulder, Travis saw the wagon make its way up the hill on the path toward the Brokenthorn Forest. He hoped that they wouldn’t run into any more trouble before they reached their destination. Turning back to face forward, the red-haired traveler tried to get comfortable in his saddle, but it was of little use. The rest of the trip was going to be uncomfortable; he’d just have to deal with it.

[Taskmienster]

Lars sighed as he mounted the horse. The thing was far more civil than the man riding, and luckily it stayed still as he hopped up. Over his shoulder he could see the merchants stringing up the defenseless scourge. They bound their legs with thick ropes, tightened the thinner ropes around their crossed hands. Should they move, or try and wiggle free they would have quickly found those thin ropes tearing at their wrists like piano wire. “Be careful,” he called to them as they tethered the two horses from the fallen wagon to the back of the one remaining. “There’s still that one guy left, and he either went off towards Olme or back towards Scara Brae.”

“You too, and thanks… we’d have died if you hadn’t come to help. We owe you,” the merchant smiled and nodded. He took his seat at the head of the wagon and with a crack of the whip they were off. Up the hill that minutes before Lars had scurried down they continued their journey. They had looted the corpses, taken the weapons and whatever might have been valuable as compensation for their lost wagon. Clutched in the hand of one of the fallen scourge had been a dagger much like the one Lars had found from his own encounters. An owl clutching a dagger in either talon was the symbol on the hilt, the blade was a pure black metal, but was much stronger than steel. They could fetch a good profit with that, just as he planned to do once he showed it to the council.

The hacker nodded back to the man, even though he had turned away already. They did owe him and Travis, not the guards or any form of law. It was a welcome thought, having others in his debt. It was the way to start networks that could be overly beneficial in the future, and a way to call in favors if they were needed too.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Lars said as he shifted unsteadily. The rough leather saddle did nothing for comfort, leaving the hacker suspended precariously on the back of a beast he didn’t trust. With a soft rap of reigns the horse started forward, trotting with the rest as they made their way towards Scara Brae. It would be a long travel; if they could keep pace and both Ethan and Travis could deal with the annoyance they would be able to make the capital by sundown.


~X~

Scara Brae was a sight to behold. High walls surrounded the modest, though large capital. It was undoubtedly the biggest city on the small island nation. Unlike Olme it was fortified and guarded, men in silver plate walked the ramparts with bows in hand. Even from the gates Lars could tell they were completely devoted to their monotonous routine. Four men, three wearing common steel plate and one wearing a deep crimson plate with a red circle on his chest, looked down from the gate and watched as wayfarers passed into and out of the city.

“What’s that red circle on the black background? I’ve never seen that before.” The hacker asked as they passed through the portcullis and into the city proper. Even in the dim light of the coming night he could see it clearly. “Some sort of special troops or something?”

“That’s the Red Halo of Sir Narriplion, the greatest man to ever live on the island. He founded the Scara Knights, the elite knights of Scara Brae. They govern much of the guard; normally an officer of their ranks is in charge of a watch house of each city. We have one back in Olme too…” The guard looked at the hacker with a suspicious gaze. To not know of the Knights of Scara Brae was an open show of foreign background, even then of a history with little to no knowledge of the important countries. He wondered at where he really came from, who he was. “Surprised you’d never heard of them, they’re famous in these parts.”

“Yeah,” Lars said offhandedly, “I’m still new, still learning all the ropes of the… island.” His hesitation just offered him more interesting looks. But it didn’t matter what the guards thought. They had escorted the pair to the main city, their job was complete. All that was left was to find the hacker and his Irish looking companion a place to stay for the night and they would be able to relax and leave in due time. Back to their boring city to continue the exploration of the Lumber mill and catching those that were in violation of the Queens orders. “So,” Ethan said to change the subject. “Where’s the closest inn? I assume the governments paying for it, since we are something of heroes and such… right?”

[A Nony Mouse]

The city of Scara Brae amazed Travis. He was used to small villages like Olme; not massive cities like the one stretched out before him. They stood just inside the gate, Lars and the escort from the forest town conversing idly about some kind of guard… Travis hardly paid them any notice. He was too captivated by the hustle and bustle of the city to notice. People swarmed over every inch of the street that he could see. Children ran around the grown-ups, probably playing some sort of game of make believe. Women moved between the shops and stalls, picking up pottery and linens and discussing them with the merchants. Men strolled through the midst of it all, some commanding attention in their City Guard armor while others tried to make their way relatively unnoticed. Sights, smells, and sounds accosted the adventurer’s senses as he looked around the city in wonder. He was so caught up in it all that Lars had to shake his shoulder to get his attention.

“Fucking pay attention Travis!” he said in a slightly irritate voice. Their escorts were gone and Lars held a small leather pouch. “Those dumb fucks went off to drink in some shitty pub; this is for our room.” He shook to pouch and a soft clinking of gold could be heard. “Probably two hundred in here,” he continued. “Enough for two nights in some crappy shithole of a tavern.” Clearly he had assumed that the village of Olme would be paying for better accommodations.

“Better than nothing,” Travis tried to console his companion. But the man merely brushed off the comment and started forward into the throng of Scarabrians.

The red-haired adventurer followed close behind his street-wise friend, trying hard not to get separated. Hawkers called to him from all sides, urging him to buy their wares. Soon Lars ducked through the doorway of a small, rundown inn and Travis gladly followed suit. The city life was going to take some getting used to.

As his traveling companion approached the counter to negotiate rooms for them, the traveler wandered over to the corner of the tavern and examined a picture hanging on the wall. He heard the two men conversing in low tones, but figured that Lars could handle it. Something about the woman in the portrait seemed vaguely familiar to him; he just couldn’t place his finger on it. As he racked his brain for some connection, he heard the door open and then slam shut.

Turning toward the intrusion, Travis blanched as he saw a shriveled old man walk into the tavern. He moved slowly, hunched over and shuffling his feet as he walked. It was the man’s face that startled Travis. Where his eyes should be there were only blackened holes and spiderweb pattern scars.

He made his way over to the counter and tapped Lars on the shoulder. Travis had no idea who the man was or what he wanted, but he began to move closer to hear the conversation.

[Taskmienster]

A shithole indeed it was, lights were dim as they were normally when there was shady confrontations running amuck, the people all had their heads down with interest in their drinks, and the general feel of the place made the hackers skin crawl. Someone could get in a lot of trouble in that sort of place, he thought, or start trouble. Either way, he was looking for anything but confrontation and decided to work his way towards the innkeeper to negotiate for room and board. The man that met his needs was an overweight, grubby individual with a gleam in his eyes that made the words of the hacker turned hero float away. He placed a foaming mug firmly in front of the gray-blue eyed traveler and smiled a broken, rotten toothed grin.

“What can I do for ya?” The man’s words seeped from his mouth like a sickly puss from an unsightly sore. His elbow cocked his entire form sideways as he leaned in towards Lars. The reek of sour ale and stale sweat suited his ugly visage almost as much as the beer and meat stained clothing that sagged from his portly form. “Lookin’ fer a room, or jus’ getting ale and the latest news on the mainlands?”

Lars peered over his shoulder to see what his companion was up to before responding. The man was staring at a picture depicting a realistic façade of a woman. It was uninteresting to Lars, but seemingly enthralling to his friend. Travis was dawdling as he had been since entering the capital of Scara Brae, still dumbfounded by the city and all it had to offer. The hacker had been through multiple servers, on countless games and seen and heard everything. Another massive town and back alley bar was nothing new or exciting. His attention quickly returned to the barkeep.

“Lookin’ for a place to call home for a little bit, have some business with the big wigs around here,” he intoned as he picked up the mug. It was heavy, stout glass, the perfect kind for a rough bar where a fight could break out and a mug in hand was as good as any to a drunken patron. “Everything should be peachy though, in and out within a few days if things go to plan. So what’s the price on things? We’ll need room and board for at least two days, and play it by ear after that…”

The movement and interest at the door went unnoticed by the hacker. The man with the vein coursing through his macabre face like a web of lies through the American political scene quickly approached the young would-be hero. The plump innkeeper took a step back from the bar, giving the hacker and his new guest room… most likely more so out of curiosity than thoughtfulness. Lars creased his brows and gave the fat man a funny look before turning to meet the one interested in him.

Blank, voidlike eyes stared deeply into Ethan’s and made his skin crawl even more. It was a warning, a primal system of detecting those that were strange or possibly dangerous, and a warning he took to heart. “Yes? Can I do something for ya?” Lars said as he took another heavy sip from his ale and turned his head. His hands freed he reached for his cigarette and lighter, wanting little more than to feel slow burn of a nicotine high thanks to the idealistic nature of Althanas. The man suddenly moved though, wrapping the wrists of the hacker in a firm grip that wouldn’t have been expected by so emaciated hands. “Dude, you’re fuckin’ freaking me out… what the hell do you want?”

“The wheel spins,” he said through a sighed and whispered tone. “It spins over and over. We are at its center. Can we be freed? NO! But this wheel is a web of emotions, and in it the world is spun… you stand apart. Your head would look so pretty on a pike. We come, we come, we come…” Lars snapped his arms and tore his wrists free from the man, his head swimming, light and free. He pushed the man away from him and balled up his fists.

“Fuck off freak, you’re talkin’ to the wrong guy…” the hacker looked to Travis for confirmation on what to do next. “Dude, what the hell? Scara Brae’s full of freaks.” Before he could hear and answer the man snapped around as if not moving his lower half, only from his waist up did he turn. His hands reached out for Ethan’s red headed companion.

[A Nony Mouse]

Didn't know how Ethan would react, but I bunnied it as best I could. Lemme know whatcha think, as usual.

The old man grabbed Lars’ wrists and began reciting words that sounded an awful lot like prophecy to Travis. Of course, he reminded himself, he could just be a crazy old man… While his companion protested, the red-haired traveler’s eyes were locked on the prophet. Suddenly, the eyeless beggar turned sharply to face the pale youth.

“Fear the like of Colin, he wishes only to twist the world to his will. His only desire is to unravel the threads which bind this world together. Fear him and stop him at all costs,” the man’s voice sounded like a chant as he limped closer and closer to Travis. When he as but a hairsbreadth away, he suddenly snapped his body toward the door and silently shuffled away.

Travis rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to his companion. “That was… odd,” he said in a small voice. Lars, his face whiter than usual, merely nodded in agreement. Shaking his head, the traveler asked his companion, “Did you get us a room?”

“Yeah, I guess…” the other man’s voice was hollow, distant; as if he were occupied elsewhere. Travis narrowed his eyes and turned to the chubby bartender.

“Did my friend pay yet?” he asked the dirty man. They settled up, and Travis motioned for Lars to follow him down the hall to their room. “He only had one room free,” he explained, “but it’s supposed to have two beds.” His partner’s face had changed from a look of shock to one of anger, but still he ignored Travis’ words.

The pair entered the room and threw their packs onto the beds. Taking the time to scan the room’s interior, Travis felt as though the man at the counter had conned him out of some gold. The bare walls were made of wooden frames insulated with straw. Then a thin mortar had been spread across the whole thing. Who knew how long ago that had been, because the walls were chipped in countless locations. The floor was made of cheap pine and the furniture seemed like it had been thrown together in a hurry.

The entire place reeked of stale beer and sweat, but the room also smelled slightly of old feces. Looking closer at the wall, Travis wondered if they really had coated it in mortar…

“Shit, what’s that smell?” Lars finally snapped out of his reverie to notice their surroundings. Curling his lip in disgust, the man flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. There was evidence of heavy water damage and Travis prayed that it wouldn’t rain during their time here.

“I don’t know,” the red-haired man replied. “Oh hey, when do we meet with the queen?” He sat on the edge of his bed, facing his companion as they discussed the next several days spent in Scara Brae. Travis wanted to make sure that he knew what was going on.

[Taskmienster]

“From what I heard those guards say… sometime soon, hopefully.” Lars responded only half listening to his companion. His mind was elsewhere, milling over the words of the crazed man without eyes. He had been something of an anomaly. Ethan was slowly getting the hang of telling who was what in the world of Althanas. From a gaming standpoint he was slowly gaining the ability to recognize the coding required to build an NPC (non-player character), which was amazingly intricate but not near so deep as a PC (player character). “They’re supposed to come get us, though with us stayin’ in this shithole who knows if they’ll even be able to find us. I’d assume we’ll meet with ‘em and head over to the queen bee sometime tomorrow, or maybe the day after.”

Lars shrugged and sat up on the hard straw mat. Sharp edges jabbed at his jeans, poking through the thin denim and pressing against his legs. It was annoying, more so than anything else that he had encountered to that point. Intense thought about changing the code of the straw mysteriously brought up the ethereal keypad. It sat next to him, on the bed, and he looked at it with a curious expression. Never had he simply thought about something for it to happen before, no matter what game or server he had hacked into. Instead of questioning the newfound surprise he started tapping at the keys, which to his companion would look like little more than poking at the mattress beneath him.

The pad was abuzz with flashing lights and random codes, strings of random numbers and pre-programmed settings. Lars moved his hands across the screen, gently tapping the invisible pad and replacing certain numbers with new numbers, certain qualities with the idealized qualities. In a matter of minutes the sharp ends of the straw grew dull as they changed to the ends of quills. The straw shifted a feathered texture and softened considerably, but lost no shape or size. “Perfect,” the hacker accidentally muttered as he felt the down mattress. “That’s more our money’s worth.”

He let his blue-gray eyes shift about the room. The cracked walls and haphazard drywall attempt was pathetic, but that would not truly affect him in the long run. It was better not to mess with the code of a server too much, he thought, too many differences and the admin’s would pick up in a heartbeat. “Well, I’m going to go find something to eat around here. I doubt the shit they serve downstairs is even palatable, much less not going to make me puke. I’ll be back in about an hour, no worries…”

Lars stood up and walked to the door, pushing it aside and peering into the hallway. No crazies, no old men without eyes, no worries to be had. “You want anything while I’m out?”

[A Nony Mouse]

“Not that I can think of,” Travis replied and watched his friend head out of the inn. Reclining in his uncomfortable bed, the red-haired traveler thought about the next few days. Lars had said that the guards would take them to the queen soon, but hadn’t stated a definite time. Great, he thought. Now I get to wait around here and do nothing for the rest of the night. The thought of exploring Scara Brae had of course occurred to him, but the rooms lacked proper locks. With his companion gone, Travis wanted to be sure that no one poked around their supplies.

Falling back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling, the adventurer focused on a spiderweb and let his mind wander. I wonder what it’d be like to rule a country like this…

[Taskmienster]

Lars wandered aimlessly down the creaking stairs and into the dark den, leaving behind his friend and companion to watch the room. Listlessly he glanced side to side. The lights were sparse and with the sun dropping the slight rays that filtered through the murky windows was all but forgotten. The yellow streaked eyes of the hacker were roving, bored. The inn keep gave him a nod. The muted greeting was returned before he took a quick route through the unsavory characters of the tavern and outside. As he passed eyes fell on him curiously, with hazy drunken gazes watching his quiet gait. He paid them no heed and left the slimy scum to their ales and dark world.

Outside the air was cool, crisp with a hint of salt twisting through the gentle breeze. Alleyways were almost more abundant than lit streets, which offered little in the way of comfort. The hacker checked his sleeves without drawing attention; the daggers were fixed in place and ready for a seconds notice if needed. Eyes peered at him from the depths of darkness that consumed the alleys. “So cliché,” he said with a small huff of laughter as a cigarette found the side of his thin lips. He pushed down on it, wiggling it up and down for a second as if entertaining himself with its presence. “Always alleys in some dark part of town, sun goes down, creeps come out… never changes no matter what server I’m on.”

But the joking nature of the makeshift hero did little to shake the nerves that haunted his every thought. He put the tip of his lighter to the end of the cig and let the acrid smoke slip from his lips. It was an unsavory habit, but who would care in so run down an area? Certainly anyone that voiced their objections would do so with a weapon at the ready, but Lars was more than prepared. He shrugged his fir lined jacket up further on his shoulders, put his lighter away, and pulled the open closed as much as it would.

“A coin for your thoughts?” The voice was haggard, and the face that accompanied it was little better. The elderly man was concealed in the shadows against the wall of the tavern, wrapped in rags with a mess of tangled hair. His face was worn and weathered, it was obviously not the first night he had spent on the streets of the capital of the small island. Lars turned to him and puffed out small smoke rings as he dug out a small gold coin. “Gold my boy? You must have quite a bit on your mind.”

“Food my man, just lookin’ for some good food. A stall or hawker that might still be open would be awesome. I’m not from around here, but I’m sure you could help out with some details?”

“For that, I can give you a full layout of the bloody town,” the old man laughed as he accepted the small gold piece. “Keep going about four blocks west and you’ll find the skirts of the merchant district. At night they pack up, but some should be still out looking for that final coin. Good luck.”

~*~

As soon as the door closed behind the hacker the bar seemed to shift. Undercurrents and muttered words filled the common room. From the shadow along the stairwell the eyeless man seemed to appear. Silence filled the air for a moment as he nodded to the inn keep and tossed him a small bag that clicked as it tumbled in the air. The curious man’s hands returned to his ragged, always moving cloak and headed up the stairs to ‘meet’ with the lone adventurer. As he twisted his head towards the turn in the stairwell a tattoo flashed, a dark emblem similar to that on the dagger the hacker had taken from the fallen Scourge in Brokenthorne.

[A Nony Mouse]

Woman and children cheered as their King paraded by on the streets of Scara Brae. So happy were they to see their monarch that many lost all sense of decorum. Merely touching His Majesty was an honor; one that very few ever received. Travis Kiltias, ruler of all Scara Brae, waved to his people as his chariot was pulled ever onward. He basked in the glow of being the Supreme Being in the city; all glory and honor was paid to him as it should have been.

A shuffling sound outside the door to their room shook Travis was his daydream of being the King of Scara Brae. He sighed, That’d be the life. He supposed that there were drawbacks, but surely the benefits tipped the scales…

Fingers rested on the outside of the door and Travis inhaled sharply as he realized that someone was intent on entering. The hinges creaked ominously and cold shivers raced down his spine in leaps and bounds. Something hung in the air, warning the red-haired adventurer that the person trespassing harbored an ill will toward him. He slowly rose from the bed as the door swung in on its hinges, ever fiber of his being ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

As the tattered rags hanging from sickly thin arms came into view around the worn and weathered door, Travis’ fingers closed on the shaft of his trusty cypress pole. He swung it into a defensive position just as the eyeless man from downstairs began fully framed in the doorway.

“So pretty on a pike,” he mumbled, clearly not talking to Travis.

“What do you want?” the redhead questioned bravely. The man’s head jerked as if he were startled by Travis’ presence in the room. His hands, all knuckles and knotted tendons, reached out as if from the grave.

“The dawning of an empire brought low by the likes of two. Fate’s twisted strands weave our lives as one. He desires smaller strands; yours I fear will meet the scissors before too long now,” the ancient man rattled off his enigmatic prose as he slowly moved across the room. Entranced by his words, Travis barely had time to react when the stranger suddenly lunged.

As if by magic, the man was holding a dark blue sickle in his left hand. His blackened eye sockets drilled holes in the adventurer, piercing him with their power and nearly rendering him immobile from fear. Still, the cypress pole rose to catch the deadly blade. Prevalida met wood and the pole was sliced cleanly in two pieces. Travis gaped as the curved blade flew through the air and plunged itself into the skin and muscle of his abdomen. Crimson welled on the blue blade, turning it purple in the redhead’s eyes.

“Will meet the scissors,” the man mumbled as Travis began to black out. “Your strand meets the scissors…”

[Taskmienster]

Never eat squirmy worms… The old children’s limerick was, quite honestly, the only way he could remember which way was what on the compass. Over twenty years and he still could barely remember which way was which, sad as it was he could do little more than just laugh at himself as he walked the way the beggar had told him. The streets were going silent as the sun descended in the western sky. Orange and red shifted to purple and blue through the thin clouds of the nearly empty sky. Lights were slowly flaring to life as the people began to welcome to night time sky. Lars was in a jovial mood as he took the last puff of his cigarette and tossed the used stub into the gutter. “Whatcha know, the bugger was right…”

The city’s center of commerce was going quiet with the falling sun. Silence was taking precedence over the constant call of hawkers and stall owners. Sheets were being tossed over the openings to stalls, wares were being packed or secured, and there was very little to take notice of or interest in. However, it was still not completely shut down. The hacker wandered to the closest hawker who was carrying his wares on his shoulder, apparently food. It smelt wonderful, like a Christmas roast, but what it was caught Lars off guard. The man smiled a nearly toothless grin as he turned around to look into the eyes of his newest victim… or customer, whichever be the case.

“Interested in a little grub? About to head home, but I’m sure I could part with another one before I head out.”

“Another one of… what?” Lars said with a smile. The things that were protruding from the flat board looked like small rodents, slow roasted, with an odd glaze. A day of carrying them around and the hot sun had done little to diminish their smell or appeal. “That doesn’t happen to be a rat or something, right?”

“Sure enough matey, it’s a rat. But don’t let the look fool ya, there’s plenty of meat on the critters. Not to mention the wonderful taste.” Lars winced and shook his head, but dug a coin out from his pocket. The man reached for it, but his outstretched fingers curled as soon as he closed in on the lackluster coin. His face became a grimace, and within a second his knees had buckled and he dropped to the cobblestone road. The hacker could not think fast enough to catch him, but his instincts took over and before the man’s prizes clattered to the ground two daggers were at the ready.

As his face made the atypical sickly thud against the cold, dirty streets the hacker was given the necessary information he craved. A dagger protruded from the man’s spine, a pool of blood staining the worn cotton shirt and sending rivers of crimson to flood the gaps in the cobblestone. He could do nothing for the man, but instead was face to face with two men in makeshift armor. They were undoubtedly from the Scourge; Lars could picture them easily in the grizzly group. One was holding a dagger with a smile on his scruffy face. The second was an overweight man without armor to protect his gluttonous trophy, leaving only his upper arms shielded.

“Good eve,” the smaller of the two said as his slow gait brought him closer to the hacker. His boots clicked against the stone surface, a noise that was barely comprehendible compared to the muted cries of the few merchants left. Flaps were forgotten, what could move was pushed as quickly as it could out of the area. The three men were to be left to their own bloody devices in the wake. “It seems we’ve caught a rat… though this one doesn’t look to be done yet.”

“Is that some stupid pun? Rats, cooking… quite clever, if you were ten.” The hacker chided back, his daggers wrapped in a white-knuckled embrace. If the men were really what he thought they were, he was in for one hell of a fight. The faceless man’s friends, assassins for the would-be Scourge of Scara Brae. “Sent to silence me then I guess? You know I see the court soon enough, let’s see if you can stop me before then… or if the guards’ll be here before we finish this shit.” The hacker made the first move and lunged before his finals words were even issued. His daggers flew through the air, one plunging deep into the shoulder of the fat man, the other skimming the opposite shoulder of the smaller man closest to him.

((For the sake of continuity, I'm going to be using my lvl 1 profile and no lvl 2 upgrades))

[A Nony Mouse]

Travis woke in a small stone cell and immediately the events that had transpired came rushing back to him. He wished that they had stayed locked behind the dam on unconsciousness, but now he was forced to deal with them. Sighing, the prisoner looked down at his hands and saw, much to his relief, that they were not manacled or even tied. “What kind of dungeon is this?” he muttered sarcastically. Groaning when he tried to move, the adventurer instead decided to stay exactly where he was. His belt and weapons were gone; clearly taken by his captures after he had blacked out. And his stomach?

His hand slipped under his shirt, feeling smooth skin where he expected to find a blood gash. Pulling up the fabric, he stared at the unmarred surface of his abdomen in shock and wonder. Had he dreamt of being attacked? Or was this the dream? Was he actually lying on the floor of his room, slowly dying?

A shudder ran down his back and Travis shook his head to clear the macabre thoughts. Something much larger than he had imagined was at work here and apparently he and Lars had gotten caught right in the middle. “Why did we have to find their stupid logging camp?” he asked in vain. The fact remained that they had and now were forced to do the right thing. It was times like this that the young adventurer cursed his moral upbringing. Running away from the problem would simply have been much easier.

The door to his prison opened and sunlight streamed in. Apparently he was being held in a small building rather than just a cell. Puzzled by what that news meant, Travis waited until a tall, thin man walked in before moving. The stranger motioned for him to stand and the traveler tried to oblige as best he could. Minutes ticked by as the red-haired adventurer struggled to a standing position, but the man made no move to help. “Thanks a lot,” he gasped when he finally could speak through the pain throbbing in every muscle of his body.

“Where are we going?” The man didn’t respond, merely pointed, and Travis stepped through the door in front of him. The sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees; before him stood more than fifty black-cloaked members of the Scara Scourge. It was then that all Travis could think about was a word he’d picked up from Lars… “Shit.”

[Taskmienster]

The two men were caught off guard, but only slightly. The daggers had done their job. Attention diverted for the slightest of seconds, Lars plunged himself mercilessly into combat. The closer of the two was caught with an elbow to the sternum, bones popping as he fell back. His hands reached for his chest, and his eyes widened as his traitorous heavy boots caught clumsily in a crack in the stone streets. He was falling backwards, without knowing where to put his hands. Catch himself, or hold his injury? Lars, however, didn’t give half a second as to what to do next. He spun as the fat man’s slow reactions attempted to catch him with an outstretched blade.

The long black dagger streaked through the empty air and was given no satisfaction. The hacker danced away rather gracefully. His open leather jacket flapped around his small frame, the white fur lining tickling his face as he dodged and shifted away from the sloppy barrage. It did not take long for the man to close the gap between Ethan and himself. His dagger was thrust at the opening in the jacket. The hacker spun rather dramatically and let the man’s arm pass outside his chest. In the same moment he used the sudden momentum. A balled fist slammed into the back of the greasy hair of the heavy set man, sending him stumbling away.

By the time the man was pushed away the smaller of the two scourge was on his feet and furious. He did not use the dagger in hand, nor did he swing either hand nor foot. He plunged headlong into the unsuspecting Lars. A shoulder caught the hacker’s chest, tossing him back. Relentlessly the scourge member brought his dagger in a sloppy arch trying to slice at the younger man as he fell. But the distance was too much, and the dagger missed thankfully.

Lars hit the ground rolling. He was on his feet in a split second, with the large man raising himself from the cobblestones to one side, and the smaller man rushing forward. He brought up his heavy boots and smashed the side of the man’s leg before he could get too close. The blow made the scourge’s knee buckle. Quickly a dagger was pushed into either hand, and as the smaller man closed the hacker plunged one of the blades into his back. The force was enough to drop him to the ground, dagger still protruding from his spine. He would die slowly, and in a lot of pain if he was not care to.

As soon as the smaller man thudded against the road the larger of the two leapt over his falling body, rather ungracefully, and was caught with a punch to the throat. His long black dagger dropped to the ground and he held his throat with both hands. A choking, gargled plea escaped his crushed windpipe, but the hacker had no mercy. He put a knee into his chin and watched his heavy body fall to the ground without any remorse.

“What is going on here?!” The cry was issued in a high pitch squeal of sorts. Lars turned to find two watchmen with nightsticks at the ready, turning a corner and stopping outside of the reach of the combat. “By the queen you are under arrest!”

“No no no, that’s not how it’s goin’ down my friend… I was attacked; these brutes showed up, killed that guy, and then tried to kill me. How am I under arrest?” The hacker dropped the dagger in hand to the ground and let the steel blade clatter against the street. It splashed in the crimson pool of blood as it rapped against the stone. He held his hands up to show he was unarmed and at their will. It did little to appease them though, and they rushed forward.

Before either could reach the hacker they fell face first to the ground. A wicked looking crossbow bolt wedged between their haphazardly armored backs. Behind them three more members, of what Lars could only assume to be the scourge, rounded a corner. Their weapons were at the ready and the hacker was still defenseless. “Search him,” one said to the others. The two obeyed the orders and rummaged through Lars’ pockets. They pulled out the black scourge blade from his belt, and showed it to the commanding man.

“A brother?”

“Of course,” the hacker said with a sigh. “It’s good to see some help finally fuckin’ arrive. These two were after the same target, the fucker got away though… and did some damage. Help me get them up; we need to get them to help before they die and get out of here before more fuckin’ watch arrive!”

The three men helped Lars pick up the men who had but moment’s ago attacked him. He was playing a dangerous game, but a game that would save his life for the time being. They hurried away before more guardsmen could arrive, hurried away to a small inconspicuous building. The two men were put on a bed which looked more like a slab, and a medic was called for. Ethan sat in the dark, waiting for the three men to leave before he could finish the job on the two and keep his identity secreted… for now.

((Assume that it’s the same building you’re in… bunny how you see fit.))

[A Nony Mouse]

The Scourge said nothing, simply staring at Travis as if waiting for him to make the first move. The whisper of a plan began forming in the traveler’s mind, and he decided to work with it. What other choices did he have?

“Fine!” he shouted much louder than was necessary. “I admit that I was arrogant. I thought I could get away with it. And I never thought that the Scara Scourge would catch me!” At his words, many of the members gathered began murmuring to one another, pleased looks on their faces. “But…” here he paused for emphasis and all eyes turned toward him. “I promise that I’ll pay back every last cent if you let me go.”

Some of the faces staring at him turned from pleased to confused. They had expected their prisoner to beg for his life; after all, this was supposed to be the kid that undermined their entire operation in the Brokenthorn woods. Why was he asking to be released to pay back a debt? Did he think he could honestly pay back what they lost on account of him?

“You’ve got to believe me,” Travis pleaded with the assembled members of the Scourge. “If I had known that old man was a part of the Scourge, I probably would never have tried to mug him. Who employs a man with no eyes? Once I found out, I had to run… you’ve got to believe me!” The looks of confusion changed and many of the black-cloaked men began talking amongst themselves. Travis smiled to himself and stepped back, his plan nearly complete. “So if you let me go, I’ll find a thousand gold and pay you back… I promise.” With these last words, the assembled brigands erupted in shouts between what appeared to be two separate factions within the Scourge.

“I told ye that old nut was off ‘is rocker!” one man yelled as he climbed to the front of the crowd. “Second lost it when ‘e lost ‘is eyes!” This accusation was greeted with both boos and cheers. Another man pushed through the crowd to stand near the front, his finger pointed at the spokesman.

“If Second sez this ‘un did it, then Ahm of a right mind to believe yit!” he screamed. Cheers and boos went up from the crowd for his opinion as well. It seemed that Travis had found their weak point; the group’s opinion of the eyeless old man who had accosted Lars and Travis in the inn. So long as the Scourge was fighting over this matter, they’d likely pay him little mind.

Travis’ jailer stepped forward and put his hands out in an attempt to quiet the crowd. They continued shouting and so he gestured to a taller man next to him. The second man extended a hand in the air and fireballs shot out of it to explode over the assembled masses. The brutish man who had guarded Travis jail then stepped forward into the silence and said his piece, “As you all know, Second has told us that this one was responsible for what happened in Brokenthorn. He now apparently claims that he simply mugged the old man and that is why he was chosen. No matter what your opinion of Second, he may be right. I say we take him to Leader and let him sort it out.” The Scourge seemed to grudgingly agree with this idea and so the speaker turned toward his prisoner. Only Travis was no longer there.

“Find him!” the hulking man yelled and the Scourge united around this purpose. Black-clad thieves spread out all over the building, searching for a man they knew could not have gone far.

[Taskmienster]

Uneasy looks passed between the two scourge members as they helped the heavy set man inside the building, bearing his weight on their slim shoulders. Lars paced just as uncomfortably behind them, half dragging half carrying the unconscious smaller man. The two in front of him were whispering back and forth. Their words were sharp and quick, with small glances over their shoulder every so often making the hacker feel like something was wrong. But if there were issues that were being brought up, they were not being relayed back to Ethan. The three burdened men with their two bloody counterparts pushed aside the bland door and shuffled in.

Ethan shoved the light, cracked door with his shoulder and kicked it closed as he entered. The door clapped against the worn stone frame and bounced off a few times before stopping with a small crack left in the door. “We need to clear the road of the blood,” the crossbow wielding man huffed as he and the other man shoved the heavyset man onto a slab of block that looked like the most uncomfortable bed possible. He grunted and exhaled heavily, but remained still. “If they find the trail of blood and lead it back to here we will have to abandon this place quickly.”

“Smart move,” Lars said as he and the other man picked up the thinner man and put him on a similar slab across the room. “We need to treat these guys too. That bastard was quick, I showed up right when he put those daggers to some use…”

“But you didn’t get a chance to catch him?”

“I needed to get these guys out, they killed a fuckin’ merchant, with others still around.” Ethan responded as carefully as he could. Tensions were rising, at least in his mind, and he felt that he had put himself in the most awkward of situations. It was not a safe place to be. They were obviously beginning to become discontent with his story. “They guy headed off towards the other side of town, probably to find some help or something… anyway, we need to get these guy’s patched and that blood cleaned.”

“I’ll clean the blood,” the dagger wielding one intoned and headed for the door. As he swung it open to the still air of the dark night he turned. “You guy’s hear that? Sounds like somethin’s going on down stairs.”

Lars nodded and looked around the small room. There was very little to see of note. The walls were nearly blank, excepting a few thick bloodstains here and there. Other than the door the only means of escape was a rather bland window that had been smeared with blackened paint. Small spots of pealed paint allowed in rather lackluster lamp light from the streets. “I’ll check it out,” the leader of the two sighed and pointed towards the door. “Brice, get to cleaning and covering the trail. You, do what you can with these guys.”

As if fate had decided to open its hand and give Lars the greatest gift, the two went their separate ways leaving him alone with his assailants. The smaller man was bleeding profusely and mumbling incoherently. The hacker went to him first and roughly ripped the dagger out of his spine. The man’s eyes snapped open and widened, his hands flailed. Ethan plunged the dagger into the back of his neck and twisted the dagger without mercy. He was silenced and dead before the hacker could even turn to the heavier of the two.

The din below was climaxing and filtering through the small door the leader of the two had went through. Whatever the problem was down those stairs was going to cause issues very soon, and the hacker wanted nothing more than to be away before it could peak. He hurried over to the large man, pushed back his greasy head. A bruise had already formed on the underside of his throat. It was the perfect target for the blade. The steel dagger slipped through the thin skin and tore into the throat and thick veins. Lars wiped the blade clean on the fat mans cloak and rummaged through the two’s clothes before leaving.

Two new daggers, both the same scourge blades that he had barely escaped with earlier, was all he got for his trouble. They were the exact same make as the one the hacker already had and he hoped they would fetch a good price later. “What the hell?” He murmured as an explosion made the floor beneath his feet quake. “That’s a good signal to get the fuck out…”

[Taskmienster]

The mock Scourge member turned and made his way to the door, leaving behind the sounds of commotion that was echoing through the small room. As he pushed aside the door the man who had left but moments before was standing in front of him. The real Scourge scum turned his head to the opening passageway and curiously turned his head, his veiled face unable to hide the surprise at seeing Lars exiting. The hacker’s heart sank. His throat was caught on a tumult of words that wanted to escape, but the lump hindered anything intelligible from saving him. “What is going on?!” The man yelled.

Ethan could see his wandering eyes peer over his shoulder and into the room. The brown orbs widened and the scum’s hands fell to his side, dipping into the layers of clothing to reach for a weapon. Before he could do anything more Lars gripped the edge of the door and flung the light wooden obstacle at his would be opponent. The edge of the door met the better half of the man’s face and dropped him backwards. With an arm still in his coat he was unable to catch himself before he stumbled to the cobble stone road. His one free arm slipped on the grime covered streets, his elbow cracked, and he landed hard on his hip. In an instant Ethan leapt on top of him. A heavy blow found the man’s already bleeding, possibly broken nose. There was no cushion or space for his snapping neck, and the heavy thud of the man’s skull on the ground was followed by further thuds.

In a matter of moments the bleeding, broken man was silenced. His veil was soaked with crimson, which pooled around his head. Ethan did not bother to check the man for signs of life. It looked like his head had cracked on the ground, but the hacker ignored it and scrounged for the precious Scourge dagger that he undoubtedly carried. Once he found it he hurried away, leaving the man lying on the ground. He took one last look before he hurried away. Nobody was waiting for him at the door; no bodies could be seen in the dim light.

All he saw was the smear of blood dripping down the splintered wooden door.


~*~

The smell of blood clung to the hacker with a death grip as he hurried away from the hideout. All around him noises from the darkness of the alleys made his head snap and his heart race. Around any corner was a threat, hiding the in any shadow was a crossbow leveled towards his head. It hardly stopped him from his hurried gait though. The scent of a metallic tinge surrounded him, no matter how much the wind passed over him. “Damn it all, this is far to intricate for a game… I shouldn’t have these feelings. My heart’s pounding, I’m sweating, and I still know this is only a game, only a fucking game.”

But the realization of the truth behind the elaborate visage of Althanas did nothing to calm him. He turned a corner, trying to take deep breaths and calm himself, and ran into more problems. A three man patrol of guards stopped with wide eyes, weapons drawn due to the violence that had overtaken the merchant’s district earlier in the night. Ethan did not consider his appearance. His shirt was bloodied, his pants stained, the fading code that kept his hair its unnatural appearance had faded. As if to add insult to injury, in his right hand he was wielding a Delyn dagger with the symbol of the Scourge at its pommel.

He watched the eyes of the guards dart to the symbol like moths to the light. “Seriously?” Lars mumbled, dropping the blade and putting his empty hands above his head. “Guys,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “I know what this looks like… but I can explain.”

[Taskmienster]

The damp, dingy prison cell brought scents that Lars didn’t even know had existed in the world of Althanas, much less in the real world. Mildew years aged was overpowering and ever present, no matter where he moved in his small prison he could not escape it. With every step he felt the floor trying to hold him in place. It took personal resolve to look at what it was he was stepping in, and pure willpower not to be sickened by the slimy semi-gelatinous goo that coated the rough floor. If it had not been for his knowing innocence the hacker would have, without remorse, removed himself from his confines and taught the city guard a lesson for their mistake.

The lesson was not necessary though. The two men that had been to that point dismissive and obstinately against the words of the supposed scourge member were turned after a small discussion with the captain on duty. It was but moments later that the stout man wandered down to Ethan’s cell with a key ring that could put a high-school janitor to shame. “I do apologize fer this mate,” he started with a sheepish look on his face. “Seems my men’re anxious to clean the streets, what with talk of the growth of the scum here in our beautiful city.”

“They want to clean?” Ethan gripped the bars and turned them, his white knuckled grip flaking bits of rust from the ancient iron. “Let them clean this place up. The streets are spotless compared to this disgusting sty. I would be surprised to see even a sewer rat not cringe at the state this cell’s in.”

Laughing as he turned the key, the captain nodded and pulled open the door. His belly shook like the big man in red himself, jolly and full of cheer. But it was misplaced on the falsely imprisoned hacker. A meaty hand clapped Ethan on the back and pulled him into a one armed bear hug. “Tyson, Bigs, you heard the man… your punishment is to clean this and all the cells down here.”

“But Rich,” Tyson started, only to be given a wicked look from his superior officer. “I mean, Cap, it was a mistake. We didn’ mean nothing by it, we’z just being careful, like ya said.”

“What about beating me a little, before nearly strip searching me? You found three daggers from the scourge, right?” Ethan squirmed his way out from under the captain’s firm grip and into the face of the guardsman. Up close, the man was much larger than he had appeared in the dark, or from even a small distance. A small patch of hair he had missed while shaving poked out from his thick chin, his eyes were set deep in his head, and one of his ears was missing a chunk from a fight as far as Lars could tell. “Well,” he said as his cocky demeanor shrank away like a shadow from a sudden light. “How many of ‘em have you ever caught with more than one dagger? Seriously? Why would an actual member have more than one dagger on them?”

The man opened his mouth, only to have the captain shake his head and snap. The two lowered their heads in submission, but with defiance in their eyes and in their step. Another hearty slap on Lars’ upper back and he was on his way up the narrow stairs with Captain Rich. The light from the well lit offices that littered the ground level floor made the hacker wince, as if he had been a subject of the darkness for days. The smell of burnt wood, a rich and thick scent was on the air, along with the small tinge of fresh ink from the closest vial on the desk nearest to him. “Have a seat, Ethan, right?” The heavy set man said as he moved to the other side of the room. “Want some coffee? Just brewed it.”

On the wood-burning stove at the far wall was a small kettle that Rich picked up and poured the darkest brew of coffee the hacker had ever seen. He regretted not being able to decline, for as soon as it was poured into the mug the captain took a swig of the boiling black brew and brought the second cup to him. “So boy, tell me something new…”

Ethan gave him a curious look as he took the cup from the man and set it on the desk to let it cool. Instead of beginning to speak he removed a cigarette from his left coat pocket and a small silver lighter from another pocket. “It’s fine if I smoke, right?” With a nod from the man in charge he lit the end and let the acrid smoke fill his lungs. With a sigh of relief, and a shiver as the wave of nicotine coursed through his waiting lungs, he started to explain his circumstances.

[Taskmienster]

After a complete tale of mythic proportions Ethan had finished two cigarettes and even taken a small sip of the bitter brew. He told the man of the child from Olme, who he and his lost companion had rescued from the illicit lumber mill that was being built outside the town. The struggle that had followed the rescue brought about a great deal of interest, and the information that Lars had been entrusted to bring directly to the queen herself was just as important to them. The captain sighed as he listened about the filth’s assault on the would-be hero within the streets of the capital itself. It seemed that the Scourge where emboldened by profit and their ranks were filling quickly from outside sources. “Since the Civil War in Corone refugees have been flooding to the island, trying to find a new life. Those that came from shady backgrounds are integrating easily, but the homeless community is full of them as well. We’re just a little island, with a small capital city compared to Radasanth, or even the outlying towns of Serenti and Gisela… and those that came from honest upbringing and background are being forced into joining along with the chaotic to make even the slightest of monetary gains.”

Lars tapped the ash from his cigarette on the ground and exhaled the rough smoke through his nose as his tightlipped visage just nodded slowly in understanding. It all made sense. There were numerous people that had been in the logging camp outside Olme, tearing down the forests of Brokenthorn. Those that had been in charge, and most dominant, were all wearing the familiar garb of the Scarabrian gang. There had been numerous faces though, hardened destitute faces that did not look native to the island nation. “It’s a sad state,” he commented finally. “But what can be done about it?”

“Seems nothing, but we’ve gotta plan to try and open up new businesses and projects to entertain the masses of people that are milling about the land. Especially here in town, where the night watch is overburdened with all the crime,” The captain tipped the last bit of the thick coffee into his mouth and slammed the cup on the corner of the desk. Papers scattered and shifted uneasily with the commotion. “Starting them is difficult though, and we can’t get the approval of the Parliament, and in turn the Queen (may the Thayne watch and guide her). She seems to be the hardest to convince as of late. The older she grows the more difficult it is to sway her to change.”

Ethan laughed, seemed that no matter where you were the human psyche hardly changed. On earth, outside the virtual reality game of Althanas, politics were little different. The hardheaded, stubborn elder leaders that held positions of power were apt to continue their downward trend rather than accept something new that held promise, but was also unsteady. “Change makes everyone feel uneasy. But I have to talk to the Queen in the morning, relate to her the illicit practices of the Brokenthorn Lumber Inc, and their involvement with the Scourge.”

The captain laughed. “Son, you won’t see the Queen, nobody sees her nowadays. You’ll probably see Duke Aeric Eauruta, Duke of Scara Brae. He has been acting in her place as of late, and he’s an obstinate fool. Butcha didn’t hear that one from me, right?”

“’Course not,” Lars responded with a shake of his head. It seemed that the small island was in its own state of downward spiral, falling in the footsteps of Corone without even meaning to do so. That was the way of the world though. Allies brought wealth, prestige, and power… but with them came the undeniable degradation of the system. When the head falls the rest of the body falls with it, and Scara Brae was no more than an arm attached to the body that focused it’s assurance of a future on Corone. “Well, I suppose I should be going. Got a long day ahead of me and a long walk to the Valeena Castle.”

“I’ll send a patrol with you,” Captain Rich said as he firmly shook the hacker’s hand. “It was good to meet you, and I’m glad someone cares about our little island and is trying to do something about it. You’re obviously not from around here, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t do something for us all…”

[Taskmienster]

Ethan walked out into the still night air and tucked his arms in around his chest. His lungs were actually hurting from smoking, for the first time the coding of Althanas was allowing him to feel the effects of smoking too much. The feeling surprised him, but he did not have time to sit and dwell on it. The mission before him was nearly at an end, and his servitude to Scara Brae would be completed. His blue gray eyes looked to the sky, the empty air giving him a clear view of the world above. Lights of the city dulled the beautiful flickering stars, leaving only the most vibrant of specks and the thick full moon. They eyes of the moon met those of Ethan and he the locked stare remained fixed until the door to the watch post opened.

“Son,” the captain said as he stretched and placed a thick, half smoked cigar in the edge of his pursed lips. A small match was struck against the wall and put to the end of the thick stogy. “It’s nearly three in the mornin’, nobody’ll be awake yet at the castle, but we need to do something with you in the meantime. I’m thinking about letting Tyson and Bigs go with you, their shift is almost over and their homes are up that way. A couple other men live with them up there too, also on night watch; we’ll have ‘em called in and get that escort up for you.”

“Thank you,” the hacker said as he patted the heavier set captain on the back. “You’ve been kind, just hope they don’t have hard feelings.”

“Nah, they’ll be fine. Bedding is being put in a wagon around back; you’re welcome to get a little sleep while we’re recalling the night watch. Plus, you can sleep on your way up there. A covered wagon is easier to guard than a half-sleep zombie.” The captain laughed and puffed out a stream of smoke like a riverboat at full steam. Lars put his hands in the other man’s smoke and twisted a finger. Images appeared and made the big man laugh even more. A knight on horseback, lance lowered, charged forward at windmills twice its size. He clashed, and when the two groups of images met the entire scene exploded in a puff that dissipated far faster than smoke naturally would. “Amusing boy, very amusing! No wonder the Scourge has yet to catch you and kill you, you have powers that aren’t expected for your appearance...”

Ethan laughed with Captain Rich and put his hand back under his opposite arm. The scene was not just a matter of amusement for the man who had helped him so far. It was the story of Don Quixote, a legendary man who assaulted windmills. A delusional old man he charged the ‘giants’ of the hills, a knight protecting his country, it was a story that Lars could not relieve himself of. His thoughts continued to return to the ancient Spanish tale. Was the hacker just a disillusioned hero, fighting a war against something that he was unable to conquer, or was he a true knight of the people fighting against a very real threat?


~*~

The sun peeked through the back slit of the wagon, striking the sleeping Ethan directly on his face. He did not move at all, as if his form was in a state of coma. In reality the character played by the programmer Colin was in a state of mock slumber. Colin had stood up and sipped a cup of coffee while his character slept in the world of Althanas. There was no person in control of Lars; in essence his soul was outside of his body.

“How goes the programming? You’ve been in the pod for a while my love.” The voice of his girlfriend, Brittany, caught his attention and made him smile. Sometimes he forgot how beautiful her voice was, and how much time the game had taken from his time with her. He looked into her dark eyes, through black framed designer glasses, and goose bumps ran down his arms. “Everything alright? You’re smiling at me, that smile I don’t know what it means.”

“Things are just peachy doll. Got a little more work to do, gotta finish some stuff my character’s in the middle of,” Colin blew on the coffee and took a big gulp, letting the rich hazelnut flavoring warm his body. “How about we go out tonight? When I get home we’ll go catch a flick, maybe hit up some indy coffee shop you like afterwards?”

The girl hugged him and smiled. The embrace brought a bigger smile to his face. Her scent was unique; it was a mix of her shampoo and delicate perfume. With a giggle she responded. “I’d love that. Now get back to your ‘work’… I’ll be waiting at home for you.”

[Miehm]

"I never cared for Cervantes..." I shifted my belt a bit, reached behind my back to check my knives out of habit, and prepared for a long wait. It was blessedly shorter than I could have imagined. This strange man, making images of Don Quixote tiliting at windmills in smoke clouds, walked around the back of the building, and crawled into a covered wagon. Not five minutes later, the guards having seemingly failed to notice me, I too slipped around back, humming a tune as I went. "Help me Jesus help me clean my wounds, he said I cannot heal that kind, bleeding soul becomes a bit of mine, he said it happens every time..." The quiet of the night was unbroken by man or beast, and I disappeared into the wagon after my mark. The bedding was simple, and the wagon was cramped, but this man had answers I needed, answers to why I was here, how I was here, and what here might actually be. I know the locals call it Althanas, but I've seen things that don't fit. This world wasn't formed by God, it was made by man. I finger my knives again, shifting the bowie at the small of my back to a better position as I settle down against the far end of the wagon to wait. I want answers, and I will have them, no matter the cost.

"Mr. Innocent Blood says he kills but just for love, too bad the good ones always have to take the blame." I sing a few more bars from another song, the quiet a capella takes me back to late nights on the bayou, giggin frogs or coon huntin, just me, maybe a dog, and my knives, wondering if this is gonna be the night. Bad luck a Gator gets me, or I russel up a wallow of Hogs and the boar gores me. Bit by a snake, shot by a poacher. The bayou has a hundred ways to kill a man, but it's nothing compared to this new world. I've killed spiders bigger than Hogzilla, and seen snakes to make a python squirm. Stabbed, chased, shot at by bow and arrow and, I still think they're shittin me, "Magic Powers". I roll my eyes just thinking the words. I can't believe in Magic. Kids believe in Magic. I believe in sun and strength and steel, the power of my own flesh and mind and bone to overcome any obstacle. I flick my wrist just so, and a knife appears as if by magic in my palm. I chuckle to myself quietly. That's magic. Sleight of hand and speed, add a bit of practice and voila, a magic knife. I toss it up in the air, and catch it perfectly, the point wedged between thumb and index finger, before tossing it again, snatching it from the air, and making it disappear back into its wrist sheathe. I'll show them magic. I'll make this pencil disappear... The thught brings back memories of a woman I haven't seen in two years, and the sun strikes the sleeping man in the face. "Damn, it's been hours and not a wink of sleep, but finally I'll get some answers..." I barely noticed my tiredness, so eager was I to learn what this man knew about this twisted world I was trapped in, and so I waited for him to wake.

[Taskmienster]

Colin longingly smiled as he watched his slim figured girlfriend wander off, a skip in her step and a sultry joking stride taking her back to her cubicle. She looked over her shoulder and grinned a sly, knowing smile that made the young man’s hair stand on end. It was going to be a good sex night, he was sure of it…

“Warning.” The empty metallic voice from the system whispered in the adapter that stuck out from his ear. He pushed it a little harder and deeper to listen better, but already knew what it was going to say. It was the alarm he had set, so that he could hop back into his ‘body’ and get up and finish the little quest that he had started. He finished the rest of his coffee and headed back to the oversized pod along the wall. A hand stroked the side of the white, marble-like surface as he shook his head and wondered how he had ever landed such a cushy job. “Sun rise has occurred.”


~*~

When the eyes of the slumbering man opened, it was not with the slow regret of waking unwillingly. He was alert, sat upright with a questioning look on his face. There was another man, one who was obviously not part of the guard, which was sitting on the back of the wagon. Where had he come from? Who was he? If he was part of the scourge where were the guards, why was he allowed onto the wagon, why had he not killed Ethan while he slept? More and more questions came to mind as he looked at the man.

“Well, hello there…” he started as he pulled his legs up closer too him and straightened out the sleeves of his leather jacket. As benign as the action appeared, it was anything but. The small mechanical devices that were housed up either sleeve waited for the command to be put to use. Lars moved his coat so that the wicked weapons in wait were free and ready. “Seems I was sleeping too hard to notice the arrival of some company. Who are you? And why, if you don’t mind me asking, are you hitching a ride on a wagon bound for the castle with night watch guards surrounding it?”

[Miehm]

"I never liked Don Quixote. You know where I am and what this place is. I want answers." I didn't know what he was doing, but his lack of large visible weapons was making me uneasy. "Pull up your sleeves." I was sure he had a pair of knives concealed up his sleeve, just waiting to throw them at me. I hadn't seen him dispatch the Scourge agents, but I knew he had. My current employer was a small lumber mill looking to expand, and a new site in Scara Brae would have been a major threat. So they sent me to investigate. Now I find this man here, making smoke figures of a Renaissance era novel, having destroyed the operation I was sent to watch along the way. "Better yet, I'll make you a deal. I'll take off all my weapons and lay them in plain sight, and you do the same. Whatever you have concealed up your sleeves, and whatever knives you used to kill the Scourge agents." I started pulling the wrist sheath for my knives off as I was speaking, and waggled it in the air before dropping it to the wagon floorboard. My spike came off next, and I planted its tip firmly in the wood, alongside my knife, and the bowie, each of which followed shortly after the last, a small arsenal sticking straigfht up out of the wood.

"Even if you don't have any answers, we're working for the same purpose. My employers don't want an independent logging operation here any more than you do." I studied his face the entire time, watching to see how he reacted to my statements, and more importantly, to see if an assault was going to result and I was gonna have to hit him.

[Taskmienster]

Lars sighed and shook his head. It was no way to make new friends, not in the least. He watched as the man prattled on moving from the scene the hacker had made with the smoke, to questions about who he was, and finally to something about weapons. Had Ethan been a normal person, just woken from a slight slumber, he would have been utterly and hopelessly confused. Fortunately he was fully alert, which only happened to lessen the situation to utterly confused, with a slight chance of hope.

“Dude, I have many weapons, but I don’t see why I should remove them.” He said as he reached into a chest pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. With a quick snap he popped one out and put the filtered end between his lips, letting it dangle as he replaced the pack. Out of another pocket he pulled a lighter, putting flame to tip and inhaling the savory smoke with a smile. “Honestly, I’m kinda confused as to why you’re sittin’ here telling me to remove my weapons. You’re the one where you’re not supposed to be, as far as I can tell. As far as I can tell, you seem hopped up on caffeine or something… whatever it is you should slow down on it.”

Ethan slowly loosed the smoke in a steady stream, forcing his concentration into the thin cloud and keeping it hovering like a low fog. He watched it move as it lingered and all at once made it disappear. “Not sure how you know about the logging thing, or how much you know, but I don’t really care either. If you wanna help out, you should calm down a little. I’m headed to the castle to tell them about the Scara Scourge’s involvement with the lumber mill in Brokenthorn Forest… I guess I could have a little side kick if you wanna tag along?”

The wagon’s shifting over the rough roads suddenly stopped, a fact that the hacker barely caught. He looked out the back of the wagon, past the man, and saw the change in the setting as well. The buildings went from common thatched dwellings to full brick houses with windows filled with gaudy shit that the hacker could only guess as to who would buy it. Jewelry and gems on one side, silver candle holders and plates on the other. “What useless shit,” he thought between exhales. “I’ll never get it, log onto a virtual reality game and go shopping for stupid shit? I guess it’s empowering being able to buy it here when in real life when you have to live a bland middle class life in reality… but still…”

[Miehm]

"You still haven't said anything about what or where this place is. July 7th 2008 I showed up here. It's been two years. I can't find any way back to New York." I stopped for a moment and shook my head. "Did I seriously just say I wanted to get back to New York? Damn I've been here too long." The crack about caffeine was almost justified. I was hyped to see someone who knew anything about the real world, although the crack about being a sidekick was fairly demeaning.

I got back to the point at hand with some effort. "Consider taking off your weapons a gesture of trust. I didn't kill you last night, and you sleep like the dead. If you sleep like that every night the Scourge'll take you out pretty damn fast. The fact that I didn't kill you should be some evidence I don't have it in for you right now. All I want is to know why you're the only person I've met in two years who's heard of Cervantes, where we are, truthfully, and what this place is. I'll give you a hand in the city if you need it so I can complete my contract, but other than that, you're not interesting enough to warrant my attention, or rich enough to employ me."

[Taskmienster]

The hacker coughed on his smoke, nearly choking as he pounded on his chest to get it to stop. Did the man really say what he thought he had said? He arrived here in 2008 and has ‘lived’ in Althanas for two years? He spoke of New York as if it was nothing uncommon, and continued on with regular conversation directly afterwards. He looked at the man sitting on the end of the wagon and cocked his head as he tried to figure out what to do with him, what to think about him. “A lot of shit has happened since I took up this stupid mission. Crazy men nearly giving my identity away, lost my companion to the Scourge, and now this guy’s talking about the real world. But he is obviously confused… his character has to have a programmed background that was some guy back then that got pulled into Althanas. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Look,” Lars said through a sigh of smoke. “I don’t know what or where you think you are, or where you think you are supposed to be. What this place is, and where ‘New York’ is relative to that is some philosophical mumbo-jumbo shit that I couldn’t even hope to help with. That metaphysics shit blew my mind in college, so I fuckin’ ignored it. But between you and me, keep your mouth shut… I’m not exactly the most welcome of peeps in Althanas, can’t be letting info about me get out, k?”

“As for the weapons, not a fuckin’ chance mate. I don’t really take my weapons out unless I plan on using them, so they’ll stay tucked away for now.” Before he could continue there was a rap of knuckles on wood behind him. The hacker sat up and adjusted his white fur lined collar as he moved aside the flap and looked at the heavy set Tyson. The man nodded to him a greeting and pointed straight ahead.

“We’re ‘ere,” the guardsman said as he slowed the two horses to a stop. Ahead of the wagon was a rather small castle, for the way castles that belonged to royalty went. A few spires here and there, buttresses forming rows to give the center the gothic flair, but all in all Ethan was rather unimpressed. “That’s the castle, you’re expected already, we sent word ahead.”

Whether the word being sent ahead was a good thing or not the hacker did not know, nor did he ponder over the fact for long. He turned around and ducked back into the wagon, looking at the man with the questions. “Look twenty questions guy,” he said as he crouched while standing and shuffled towards the back, “you’re more than welcome to come with, like I said, but I’ve got business with the queen to tend to and then we’ll have all the metaphysics discussions your heart can long for.”

The hacker hopped out of the back of the wagon and started towards the front gate.

[Miehm]

"Y'all need to keep a better eye out." I had slipped my knives back into their sheathes during our conversation, and finished strapping the throwing knives to my wrist as I hopped from the back of the wagon, black leather jacket spreading behind me with a proper dramatic flourish. Freelancing was half style anyway, and I did my best to maintain the casual confidence that attracted customers the best. I took two steps at a jog and slowed down once I caught up to my quarry. "Whoever you are, however you know about the real world, if you can get out, you have to help me. Fighting for the rest of my life is not how I plan to live. July 7th, 2008, New York City, Missing Persons reports. 19 year old man missing in Hell's Kitchen. I got caught up in some shit I can't even begin to describe. Don't know how, don't know why, but I'm here. The name is Miehm. Maybe I even made the news. The explosion was big enough." I spoke quickly and quietly as we moved, needing to get this done now, before I forgot or got distracted, as tended to happen. "Worry about that later though. What should I expect when we get in here? Threats, violence, politicking? I need a little information on what to be prepared for." I don't know why I expected him to have access to the outside, but even if he just knew how he'd gotten here, he might be able to help me get out. I could ignore anything else in this damned Godforsaken world for a chance to get out.

[Taskmienster]

Of course the hacker knew about the real world, he was not even a real person, Althanas was not a real place. It was all a game that, though addictive, was not the real world. What the man was talking about, chattering on and on without relent, was even something beyond what Lars could hope to answer. He was quoting names and placed that the young man in real life had only been to once, and then only for a vacation. Snow was a rarity in Florida, an extreme statement, so New York had been a treat. “Though if it was an explosion it would have been in the limelight of the media for sure, if only for the sudden shock ratings that fuckin’ CNN lives on. I miss the news for a day or two and I wouldn’t ever hear of it again.”

Ethan sighed, what was he even thinking about? The man was obviously just another generated character on Althanas. So what if he could quote names and dates, if it was part of the characters background then it would be a prominent drive to figure out. The hacker knew that if he had been put in that position, without outside knowledge of the game that was Althanas, he too would be just as desperate for answers as Miehm. Lars removed the dwindling cigarette from his lips, not realizing just how much he had bit into it while thinking. With another slow sigh he flicked it away and watched as the small ember broke free of the cancer stick.

“Honestly man,” Lars said as he slowed yards from the guards that waited. He looked at them, stalwart and silent in their duty. They reminded him of the guards in England, except in place of the massive black hat they had a pummel that was just as tall. In their brushed silver armor, shimmering in the light of the new dawn, they kept a stoic face as the held their pikes in waiting. “I’m not sure what to expect. I’ve never really been around any Scara Brae nobles, much less any nobles in Althanas. I do know that we’re supposed to talk to the Duke of Scara Brae, was told he’s a stubborn older man who’s taken charge of giving out orders for the island while the queen isn’t seeing anyone... The names Lars by the way.”

With a shrug the man turned around and continued towards the guards. Unsure of what exactly to expect, nothing he had said was untruthful. Who the duke was, why he was in charge, the questions were lingering and ever present, but never dominant in the hackers mind. He just wanted his reward and to leave, so that the crazy shit of Scara Brae could be left behind for whatever Althanas had next.

[Miehm]

"Alright then. Hic abundant leones, et sic Semper Paratus." I sighed and shifted my belt, settling my knives better, as we walked through the gates. The guards looked like they wanted to stop me, without ever changing their pose or even their expression. Give me an excuse. Just one good excuse... I was on a hair trigger at the moment, and would remain so until we left the building and got out of this city. Something was setting wrong with me. Whether it was the bizarre, almost twisted glint in the guards eyes, something I'd seen in the eyes of less savory New York street people, or if it was the palpable tension in the air. They knew we were coming, and as a hunter, I did not like that at all.

"There's something wrong with these guards. I'm getting this vibe like I'm about to be mugged. Or maybe jumped. They're all very watchful, especially with me. Like they didn't expect anyone but you to be here." I muttered quietly to my companion as we walked, now inside the gates, and passing through a broad courtyard away from the guards at the gate, and the guards barring the main door. It may not be an issue, but I wanted to make sure he was as ready as I now was. My hands, when I walked in, had been in my pockets. Now they rested casually at my sides, ready to draw steel at the first hint of trouble.

[Taskmienster]

“Eh,” was the hacker’s only response to the man at his side. The guards had been expecting Lars and Travis, the fiery haired Irishman that had started out with him since Olme. If they had noticed that it was not Travis with him, they had truly been informed of the people coming, but by who was still the question to be answered. Lars ignored the guards disinterest and continued past them. “Keep on guard, for sure, but don’t make it too obvious.”

The two traveled over the smoothest road he had seen in the island nation, much less on Althanas as a whole. It was wide enough to hold ten men walking shoulder to shoulder, with room to spare. Underfoot the hacker could hear the click of his boots against the nearly smooth surface. It resonated like marble, or some mineral that was almost as smooth as glass with a rough finish. Lars let his concentration dwindle as he looked at the gothic-esque architecture that rose more and more with every step. It was a truly beautiful castle, one for the aesthetic quality. Along the low walls trees and patches of flowers followed a pattern while people scurried about in the colorful liveries of the queen. “This is no grunge, brutish castle for defense. It’s obvious that they don’t expect attack from outside influences.”

“And you are?” The words caught Ethan off guard. He snapped his head back towards the voice, which belonged to a wiry man holding a rolled scroll. Like a lions mane the elderly man’s hoary hair surrounded him, a faded halo that enwrapped a worn face and stone gray eyes. Lars regarded him as if he was a senile old man, ready with his cane to beat him off his lawn. The man had to look of it at the very least. “You surly can’t be the men from Olme come to see the queen? I expected two of more… suitable attire and visage.”

A sly smirk crossed the devilishly drawn features of the hacker. Just to piss the man off more, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, drawing it in and releasing it. Without moving his hands, by mere thought alone, he toyed with the smoke and forced it to twist itself into a dagger. It rested just below the older nobles jaw line, but curiously took its own shape as one of the scourge blades at the hackers sides. He ignored it and instead replied. “Well, if we’re not fuckin’ good enough we can always find some other person that’d like the information from Olme. I’m sure there’s a good few that would pay well to know the happenings in the forests.”

“Nay,” the man replied as he swished away the smoke with a long fingered, frail hand, apparently not even taking note of the shape it had been in. “The duke will be seeing you this morning, as the Queen is otherwise occupied. If you will both follow me?”

[Miehm]

"I'll be sure to wear my Sunday best the next time I go out roaming through the woods, just on the off chance I might meet nobility." I raised my middle finger at the mans back as he turned away. "What a tool..." I muttered to myself as we started walking again, surreptitiously checking that all of my knives were loose in their sheathes, while still appearing to be fastened securely. This guy was slimy. Of course, he was also nobility, which rubbed me the wrong way anyhow. The stone hallway was richly appointed, tapestries and various other rich crap. Lousy trim job by my reckoning, but nice wood. One of those funny "magic woods" by the look of it. Liviol maybe? Liovol? I might have to find out and get ahold of some. It'd make a nice tabletop. Or maybe a nice new bed frame. I snapped back to alertness, as I noticed a faint movement at the end of the hallway, and caught the tail end of a black cloak disappearing into the left hand of the T hallway we were approaching. Hmm... Black cloaks are always interesting.

[Taskmienster]

Ethan laughed at the man with him; Miehm certainly had a mouth to go with his attitude. It was almost like the hacker had found his brother on the server, and at a very welcome time. Instead of responding he kept his mouth shut though, biting his tongue and choking the laugh down. He looked to the walls around him as he walked. Underfoot the floor was smoother than the road leading to it, a mixed hue of ivory and obsidian swirling in intricate patterns. The walls were laced with deceptively beautiful tapestries. Flags of past clans and townships, as well as the present colors of the multiple duchies that made up the small factions within Scara Brae welcomed the visitors. Gilded candelabras lined the long hall, candles unlit and new as if never having been used before. They were hardly needed during the day though. High on the walls arches let in a flood of golden, morning light that bounded from interspersed mirrors along the walls. “Where am I, the fucking Palace of Versailles?”

The hacker took the time to look through the square columns that stood away from the walls. Servants in the same liveries as those in the front lawn tended the overly posh picture frames and decorations in a way that made the people seem like drones. Robots catering to the wealthy, it was the picture of the pre-French Revolutionary issues; the palace was just another aspect to note in a long line of problems that Lars was seeing.

When the pair came to the end of the hallway a heavy set of double doors was swung aside to usher them into a new large room. The walls were lined with books, hundreds of books. On the far side of the room was the cliché fireplace, embers all that remained from the night before. It was an ante-chamber for seeing guest. Doors lined the walls that undoubtedly lead to rooms and more long hallways to further parts of the castle.

“Guess we wait here?” He asked the rude doorman. The man turned in mid-stride long enough to nod his wrinkled, expressionless face to the pair. Without a word he turned and walked through one of the doors. Ethan took the last pull of his cigarette and flicked it into the ash and light embers of the night before. “Not much for a welcome, huh? If they ask, I’m Ethan and you’re Travis for now… that was the name of the guy that came with me. But he seems to have disappeared, lost him to some attack with the Scourge. I don’t know how much they know, but I’m sure if they knew we were coming they’d probably know our names.”

[Miehm]

"Travis. Got it." I had a bad feeling about taking someone's place. Especially when that someone was dead or MIA. "Alright then Ethan, while we wait for our gracious hosts, I think they already know your partner went AWOL. Those guards do not seem surprised to see you. They do look surprised that I'm with you. Somethin is freaky here." I tried to be as quiet about it as I could, and as fast. I couldn't begin to guess when our host would join us, or what exactly it would entail, but I knew I wanted as much input as I could get before that happened.

[Taskmienster]

Lars eyed the room suspiciously; carefully taking in all that was around him. Luxurious leather couches were arranged to face each other, with another single chair at the head of the setting. He rested his hands on the high backed chair and felt the smooth, masterfully designed furniture. It smelt old, well loved, but by whom he could not tell. Other than the servants he hadn’t seen a single person on the grounds, either the island was no longer receiving visitors from other countries or they opted to remain away on their own. On the other side of the chair was a long, honey oak table with a frosted glass tabletop. The hacker could not help but wonder how much he could sell the thing for if he had the opportunity to swipe it. “Getting anything out of this place without someone seeing would be impossible.”

The conclusion was not entirely true though. He slid past the leather to a large globe covered in a worn smooth paper. The tips of his fingers traced the small island nation, raised indents signifying the mountains in the north. Elaborately drawn monsters adorned the open waters outside of a small area, which included the much larger island of Corone and nothing else. Ethan wondered how old the globe was, how long ago had only the two islands been the continents that were supposedly the only land masses in the world? He shook his head and spun the empty world as he moved past it and onto something more interesting.

Golden frames held up pictures of condemning individuals, not a smile lighting any of the multiple portraits of past royalty. They wore elegant dresses, folds and ruffles like waterfalls falling from a dramatized miniscule waste of most of the women. No matter what gender the past monarchs had been, they all held a staff as long as their bodies. It was a pure black metal Lars had never seen before, with delicately crafted golden pictures of warriors and monarchs. At the head of the staff was a pure ruby, from the depictions cut to a perfect pyramid shape and the side of the man’s hand. “What I’d do to see that beauty…” the hacker said with a quiet whistle.

“Unfortunately,” a voice from behind him remarked with an almost bemused tone, “that ‘beauty’ has been passed away for centuries.” Ethan smirked at the woman in the picture and turned around. The Baron was as old as the rumors had said. Sagging skin clung to his face, which could have at one point been plump and quite round. If it had not been for his rosy cheeks the hacker could see how anyone would be able to pass him as an undead who had stumbled upon regal robes. “Queen Valeena, may the Thayne bless her always, is otherwise occupied and has requested that I come to play host in her stead. I am Baron Aeric Eauruta, the Baron of Scara Brae and speaker of the Queen when she wishes. I hear of the great news you have both brought, and for the daring rescue of the small child in Olme. Your reward will be most fitting for the prestige you have brought yourselves.”

Ethan slowly moved his way from the wall towards the end of the fine couch, placing the seating arrangements between himself and the Baron. The door behind the elderly man was still wide open, but only a sliver of the passageway could be seen from where the hacker stood. Being expected had unnerved him to a degree, but the quick observations of Miehm put him further towards the need for precaution.

“Well met, Baron Eauruta,” he responded with a half bow of mock sincerity. Smart ass remarks and sarcastic tones were put aside while in the presence of the one that would be signing the papers for his reward. He could only assume that the more cordial he responded and more polite he acted the better the rewards would be. “I am Ethan Calhoun, and have very interesting information that would be a great help to the council in regards to the Brokenthorn Lumber Corporation.”

Lazy, drawn eyes never changed on Aeric’s visage, his eyes never moved more than they were absolutely required, and only a passing glimpse of a smile lit his face. His thin lips remained pressed, even as he gave an attempted smile and turned his gaze on Miehm. “And you are the partner that assisted, I presume?”

[Miehm]

"I'm his partner at the moment, yes." I kept an eye on Ethan as he moved to put a barrier between himself and this...baron-thing. I took two steps back and leaned up against a column, making sure my knives were still accessible if I had to jump to the attack. "I'm sure Ethan can tell you everything that came to light during the investigation into this so called Brokenthorn Lumber company. In fact, I'll let him tell you everything he knows."

Nothing I had said was a lie, so even if he had a magical ability to detect falsehood, I had him dead to rights. I put my left hand behind my back, and scratched an itch, keeping my hand near the handle of my bowie as we talked.

This man screamed central casting: corrupt nobleman. Obviously corpulent, half dead, fancy robes, gives me the heebies... This dude is bad news, and we were stuck straight in the middle of any trouble he wanted to start.

[Taskmienster]

Without taking a seat, the hacker indulged the elderly man with the story. It was the second time he had told it in two days, and he felt like he was making it more and more exciting every time. In the story he told he fought off three men with his bare hands while Travis took out another two without breaking a sweat. Of course the truth had been quite different, pitting the man and his lost companion against odds that he had not wanted to face. Had it not been for clever guile and a tactfully sound mind the two of them would have been buried next to the mill that had been illegally created in the first place. “And so we came here, and have not received even close the compensation that I thought we’d get.”

Ethan finished with a sly smirk and a nod. Money was the heart that pounded and made the world go round, much less boosted the economy and worked in the favor of any nations engaged in trade. He wanted a proper reward, no small sack of meaningless gold good for only a night or two at some slum of an inn. He slowly stroked the back of the couch as he moved around it and closer to the Baron. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, of course.”

“No need to be overly cautious,” the man said as he slowly shifted his way into the room. He turned his blank expression from Ethan to Miehm and back. “It seems that you have been through quite a bit since coming to our normally pleasant little island. Often the adventures and intrigues that come to find visitors are harmless and rather pleasing to those not accustomed to Althanas’ interesting ways.”

Lars stopped his approach suddenly. The man had said not accustomed the ‘Althanas’ ways, not Scara Brae, or any other country. It sounded like he was reciting words as if they were coming from someone else’s, something pre-recorded. Though spoken in a soft way, they were empty words coming from an empty mind. The fear that gripped the hacker though, more than anything, was the words that were being said more so than the way they were spoken. “Althanas’ interesting ways?” Lars questioned as he let his arm hang to either side of him. The mechanical sheaths up either arm were loaded and full, waiting to be used. “Don’t you mean the ways of Scara Brae?”

“Colin, you tend to get in over your head far too quickly.” Colin, it was the second time in less than twenty four hours that the man had heard his real name. The Baron closed his eyes and smiled, saying no more. Ethan, on the other hand, could feel the very real grasp of the administration of Althanas closing around him. In the inn, when Travis and he had first arrived at the town, the dark man with the empty eyes had said his name. It was that same voice that he felt behind the Baron’s words. “We come; we come, day or night. The wheel spins and you are a broken spoke, slowing it all down and eventually going to make it all break.”

“Come out and put your puppet away,” Lars spat through clenched teeth. The Baron was being used, like a marionette he was the main actor in a show where he had no control over what he did. Strings were connected to mind and body, created by magic from the sick man. His every thought and whim was transmitted through his toy Baron. “I know that you are probably part of the group… hunting me,” the man continued. He had wanted to say part of the administration, but did not want to have to explain anything to Miehm. “Come out and let me beat the shit out of you.”

“So rude… so blunt…” Through the open door the man stepped out, his wild black eyes empty and dark. In his hand he held a black mace, the head of which was inscribed with the scourges call sign. If Lars could guess anything it was that the man was behind the lack of the queen, and the control of the Baron. For what purpose would an administrator of Althanas, the backbone of the virtual reality community, have for controlling the flow of the island nation though? “Miehm, you were not expected… you spun from another wheel, another world, and your reality is not mine.”

[Miehm]

"I'm ok with that. Whatever the hell it means." I propelled myself away from the pillar and towards the Baron. I hadn't pulled either of my fighting knives yet, but my right hand flicked, and a throwing knife went spinning across the room, towards the newcomer. I planned to pummel the older man into unconsciousness, and I was counting on Ethan to occupy the other man's attention long enough for me to better our chances of victory.

My left hand drew back as I reached the Baron, and a swift left cross brought the older man to his knees. "Jesus..." My hand hurt like hell, and I immediately reconsidered the wisdom of punching someone without my knuckle dusters. "Fuck it." My knee drove up into the tottering Baron's face, and he slammed to the floor, at least momentarily immobilized by the brutal treatment.

"Ethan! Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!" The Baron was down, but I could see guards streaming down the hallway towards us, and we'd be overwhelmed fast if we didn't do something. I pivoted on my left foot and went straight for the newcomer, my bowie coming out from behind my back, as my hand scrabbled for the clasp on my knife hilt, trying to release it from its sheath and bring it in to play as fast as possible.

[Taskmienster]

The unnatural entity that stood before the two adventurers was an amalgamation of dark magic and what would have once been a handsome man. His servitude to the Scourge, as well as whatever foul magic that he commanded had taken their toll on him. At the inn Lars hadn’t taken full notice of him, counting him amongst the lazy vagabonds that roamed the streets of the capital city. Except for the strange words he haphazardly threw about he had been forced to the back of the hacker’s mind. For the first time his true, devious appearance was in full view; Lars felt as though he was going to grow sick from viewing the spectacle. “I know! I know! Fucking deal with the guards!”

Miehm was in a panic it seemed, though so was Ethan. His primary target was the man with the mace, despite the number of soldiers that streamed through the doors. Each one was lightly armored, barely looked like they were meant to do actual battle. A leather jerkin and leather bracers adorned the majority, only a few here and there that wore steel scales instead. Not one between the groups carried a shield, not one carried a ranged weapon of any sort, and they were an almost perfect mix of swords and halberds. In such close quarters the duo that wielded daggers held a small advantage.

The first soldier in the slowly budding group charged at Ethan, leveling his sword and thrusting as hard as he could. With reflexes and speed nearly doubled what was the average, the hacker side stepped and spun along the blade. He could feel the sudden shift of the momentum of the weapon, attempting to cut him in half instead, but he was already past the center of the sword. It pushed into his leather jacket but went no further. Lars put the man in a sudden head-lock and half spun away from an outstretched halberd. As the pole arm met an ally the hacker pushed as hard as his strength augmentation would allow. The unprotected head of the guard met with the firm orb of the incomplete world.

Ethan let the man slump to the ground as the dented globe spun round and round. Two daggers fell from either sleeve and were almost instantly released, neither blade missing the mark at so close a proximity. The edges of steel plunged into the upper thigh of the halberdier and another like him, and both fell clinging to their wounds. He didn’t want to kill anyone, in case they were doing what they were according to the whims of the dark man alone. It was not their fault that they were following their mind controlled directions, and the blood of half a dozen soldiers of the queen was the last thing he wanted to explain if he escaped the room alive.

“Fucking pawns!

Ethan side stepped another thrust and redirected the wicked head of the polearm into the back of the couch. Before it could be removed Ethan tossed another dagger, this one also digging deep into the tensed thigh. Even as he fell more soldiers flooded past the mace wielder and scourge mage. He was trying to force a wall of drawn swords to keep him protected from the distance of the dagger throwing hacker. The tactic was working, and with every thrust of a new blade Lars saw his opening growing further and further away. Instead of actively trying to remove people he was forced into a state of defense, using the heavy globe as a spur-of-the-moment shield.

[Miehm]

The first guard never saw it coming. My knuckles sunk deep into his kidney, and he dropped like a stone, where a well placed boot to the knee immobilized him. A second guard fell to a severed hamstring, and a third lost the tendons in his wrist to a slash from behind. Then they were on me. At least five guards, two of them with halberds, backed be away from Ethan, and away from our mutual ability to cover each others backs.

A sword came at my face, and I caught it on my knuckles, pushing it out wide, and driving my spike through his wrist, crippling another opponent. A heavy weight struck me in the side, driving the air out of my lungs, and I realized that the swords were either blunted, or just horribly maintained.

I spun to the side and broke the mans leg with a swift kick to the knee, when a halberd caught me in the leg. It was poorly swung, but the blade was sharp and heavy, and it sliced through jeans and skin like they were nothing, leaving a long gash nearly half an inch deep on my right thigh.

"Damnit Ethan, I can't keep this up forever." I stepped inside the arc of the Halberdiers weapon, and smashed his face into a bloody ruin with three rapidfire jabs. Two more guards stood in front of me, but more were coming up the hall, rapidly, and I made a possibly fateful choice. I charged the swordsman, tripping the remaining halberdier as I passed by, and used my weight and momentum to push him back into the doorway.

From the doorway I could hold them almost indefinitely, and as long as Ethan could make short work of their master, we might survive this fight.

[Taskmienster]

A lackluster sword swing by one of the many empty faces barely caught the edge of the hackers arm. He spun to the opposite side of the globe and put a clenched fist in the face of the closest guard. The man’s broken nose erupted like a faucet, blood pouring to his open mouth and down his chin. Another quick dodge of an incoming blade and the cornered man threw another fist into the bloodied nose soldier, doubling him over. The injured mans arms waved wildly as he lost his balance. The training of his fellow guards kicked in and swords and halberds were lifted and moved aside so as not to puncture one of their own. Finally, Lars was given a short reprieve. Instead of having to fight like a caged and singled out animal he was allotted just enough time to retaliate with a true show of power.

The rush that flowed through him made his hair stand on end, his arms tense, and a cocky smile light his face. Even as the opponent recovered he could feel the pure power of his hacked body double, and it was a sensation that he adored. His empty hands grabbed the bronze edge the atlas was contained in, the cool metal feeling as if it was almost frostbit compared to his sweaty palms. A summoned, immediate fit of rage recklessly spurred Ethan’s movements, and within a second the artifact of old was sailing through the air.

None of the soldiers could back away or dodge the incoming spur-of-the-moment missile. It struck the first man, the poor bloodied nose soldier from moments before, before carrying on. They fell like bowling pins. The hacker almost yelled strike, just for the pure enjoyment of it, but kept his thoughts away from distraction. There was no time to lose.

Time slowed to a screeching halt as he employed one of his most powerful hacks. The line of condensed soldiers was frozen mid-fall, the orb stopped just before the face of one of them who was quite obviously in a state of panic. Just beyond that last man was the mace wielding moderator, his empty hand with a half formed shield already beginning to form to deflect the globe. With the world around him frozen, Lars could truly appreciate what he was, but had only two seconds to react within the confines of the ‘spell’. He rushed forward, towards the man who pretended to be the royalty, a dagger finding his empty left hand.

“One one-thousand.”

Running atop of the fallen bodies was like running in the snow, soft and plush. The uneven obstructions of armor, bones, body parts, and flailed weapons made the task that much more difficult. However he was already counting, already moving. It would be another second before everything would return, and then the melee would continue. There was not enough time to gain a blow on the mace wielder, but he loosed the dagger anyway in case it could get over the shield before it was created. At the same time, perhaps as a sign of no ill will, or maybe even out of a loving respect for others, the hacker pushed aside the last soldiers face.

“Two one-thousand.”

When the world started again it was a different scene. The man, who would have had his face broken in, and probably died from the blow, was spared with a strike to his shoulder instead. He spun wildly towards those that were facing Miehm. Lars did not pay attention to him though, his extended hand was still coming down, a dagger mid-flight. The black wall of force appeared before the scourge mage and deflected the globe harmlessly away from anything. However, the shield also jerked at an upwards angle as the man was caught by the steel blade in the shoulder.

Magic faltered and in a split second, through the parted sea, the hacker lunged. His shoulder heavily slammed into the stomach of his rival as he attempted to tackle the man to the ground. He had an advantage over the skinny freak on the floor, his power and size far better suited to ground-and-pound tactics than a dagger against mace battle.

[Miehm]

My hands moved in a blur, struggling to hold the doorway with a flurry of blows, breaking a wrist here and there, shattering kneecaps, slicing tendons, and all in all making a nuisance of myself at every opportunity. My breath was coming ragged in my lungs, courtesy of the hit I had taken earlier, but it wasn't enough to stop me yet.

The sudden cessation of time was enough to stop me. I know that when the adrenaline gets pumping things are supposed to slow down, but this is frankly ridiculous. I can't even move my eyes for what feels like two seconds, but I can get ready to maim my next opponent, and I do exactly that as the effect wears off, and my spike penetrates the fleshy bit of his collar bone, and punches through into his shoulder blade, which unfortunately traps my weapon in his body.

"Bad idea... ETHAN!" I couldn't see him take the old man to the floor, but he needed to hurry up so we could make our escape mostly intact. I was getting more and more bogged down, and if this kept up I would have no choice but to start killing these guards. I jumped back, and pinned two guards out of play with my throwing knives, one wrist stuck to a door, the other man clutching his thigh.

My hand flashes with steel, and I’m holding my bowie knife, catching a sword on the draw, and locking the crossguards at right angles to the blade, twisting it out of my opponents hand before smashing his face in. I shake my hand again, before groping at my belt to pull out my trench knife, and get fully back into the fight.

If this kept up, I was going to build a wall of disabled enemies, and never get out of the room even if we did kill the bastard in charge. Sometimes, life’s a bitch like that though. Oh well. I smashed another face in, and let the next soldier step forward, over the body of yet another of his crippled and broken comrades. They were fighting stupid, and as long as they kept at it I could break them as fast as they stepped forward.

[Taskmienster]

The man’s weight folded under Ethan’s sudden attack, he was frail and old. The hacker fell on top of him with a fist to the face, a quick powerful blow that knocked the scourges head into the floor. It thudded and rebounded. Another blow caught the side of his face and the aggressor was given a sick crunch of bones and teeth. Ethan continued to rein blows down on the man, not willing to cease his assault until the abysmal man was dead or unconscious. Every punch, every crunch made the resolution and confidence of Lars grow. The rage was slowly dissipating through the physical release of violence, a tendency that he would have normally not engaged in or enjoyed so much.

“Just. Die. Fucker.”

The words were spit at the man, a tone of venom from the unfettered anger. Another fist was thrown, this one stopping mere centimeters from the creeps face. Ethan sat up straight and raised his other hand, throwing it down while picking up his other fist. The second shocking halt of his force brought about a worried and somber look on the hackers face. Empty eyes turned to meet his gray-blue, and a blood smeared smile found the face of the scourge mage. “You are out of this loop, tearing it apart, I will not die for my purpose is to remove you.”

Ethan’s arms rose suddenly, spread wide by the magic from the mage. His grotesque smile grew and his empty sockets flashed with an unexpected light. A brilliant light struck the hacker in the chest and exploded. The burst flung Lars away and into a group of armored men who were looking at Miehm. They fell and folded under his weight and momentum. A small stream of deep red blossomed on the edge of his while fur lining, drops being caught by the synthetic material. Before he could move, hands were holding him down, gripping his shoulders and pushing him to the ground.

“Keep him still,” the devious scourge mage’s sly whisper made the men cling harder. “It’s his time to die.”

As quickly as he man approached, Lars freed his hands and slammed them together. The empty palms crashed in a clap, one that was a manipulation of the code. The noise was not a simple clamor of flesh on flesh. It became a sharp, powerful wave of sonic energy. Quivering sound was almost tangibly moving, spreading as it reached out for the mage. The edges of the code caught picture frames, glass sculptures, shattering everything formed of crystal. When it hit the mage, he grabbed his ears. Through the tight fingers blood slowly dripped, spilling to the ground.

“Miehm!” Lars screamed, hoping the man was freed by his own body being entangled with the men that were facing him. It was a moment of weakness for the scourge mage, a moment of faltering that was probably the only opportunity to kill him.

[Miehm]

"Shit..." My ears were ringing after Ethan's massive feedback had torn through the room. Watching him fly past me and into my opponents had been quite shocking, but the fact that the mage walked past me like I didn't even exist was equally unsettling.

He pronounced that it was time for Ethan to die, and I acted without thinking. He didn't get a chance to raise his arm, or make a single gesture before my knife blade slipped between his vertebrae and his skull. The crunch of grinding bone and cartilage was audible through my arm, and his body went limp immediately, like a pithed frog. My other arm came up and around, drawing a line of crimson across his throat, slitting it from ear to ear.

"Bitch, this ain't it." I turned back towards the guards holding him, but they were already letting him loose and shaking their heads in confusion. I watched carefully while they sorted themselves out.

"Are y'all gonna keep tryin to kill us?" It was a pretty stupid question, since they hadn't attacked yet, but the last five or so guards that were on their feet and still capable of fighting were still going to be plenty of match for me. They couldn't fight for shit, but I was suddenly exhausted. I looked around, and realized that what had seemed like just a few minutes had been enough carnage to cripple or maim twenty guards. Broken bodies lay all over the floor, either unconscious, or clutching at crippling injuries. "Oh... Shit. Somebody better get a healer then..."

"Ethan. Whatcha say man?" I watched two of the guards run off, probably looking for that healer I mentioned, and moved to help Ethan to his feet, holding out a hand for him to grasp.

[Taskmienster]

A hand clapped over the hacker’s mouth as he screamed; another one across his throat. It was like being in a sea of fingers, a riptide of digits pulling the man down and holding him firmly under. Unable to escape, unable to move he hoped that Miehm had enough time to act. The fingers and arms were tight around him, it would be seconds before his first encounter with a moderator of the Althanas server would also become his last. They were far more powerful than he had ever assumed. He was far weaker than he considered himself to be.

“So be it…”

The thought came along side the calm that coursed through him, slowing his heart and letting the adrenaline that was flowing die away. His muscles were tensed, burning with the exertion. Sweat beaded on his forehead, a slick sheen coating his arms beneath his faux-leather jacket and his tight jeans. Eyes closed, break ragged, he waited for the long black blade to pierce him and destroy the coded body he so loved.

A spray of blood smattered its way across his face, warm and metallic. He could taste it in the air, smell the coppery tinge. Drops mingled with sweat and a few isolated tears of self-pity. They ran their course down his cheeks, catching the edge of his lips. Tasting the blood he cringed, unable to keep his lips tight enough to let the crimson simply drip from his chin to his jacket. He tightened his eyes, unable to believe how painless death really was. Perhaps Althanas had changed the coding to not simulate true death. Perhaps death was not something that was painful on the site simply to reserve the company from lawsuits due to the mental anguish that would come from it. Lars could easily understand how dying multiple times on the site for those that took it too seriously could toy with the mind of those slowly slipping away.

He opened his eyes, expecting to see a dagger plunged deep in his chest. The sight he was offered was one of unbelief and overall misunderstanding. Gushing and flowing down the front of the scourge mage’s black garb was an unstoppable flood of blood. It was spraying outwards, his dagger dropped to his side and his hands grasping his opened throat. The lifeless eyes of the man slowly faded to empty sockets before he could even drop to the floor. Miehm was standing with a coated blade, and a grimace on his face that spoke of the kill.

“Motherfucker,” Ethan muttered as the hands let loose and the men around him slowly began to push away and stand. Goosebumps raced along his arms, his computer simulated hair following the sub-conscious thoughts of the actual user behind the façade. He was not dead, there was no blade protruding from his chest, and the guards around him seemed dazed and lost. The staff member was dead and quiet, a puddle of blood building and growing closer to the black converse of Lars.

“Umm…” The hacker slowly stood and stepped away from the dead man, keeping his soft cloth shoes from being dipped into the pool of crimson. It was slowly staining everything around the scourge mage; priceless rugs had tassels absorbing it. The stains would never come out. Why he thought that, he was not sure. Overwhelmed with his muscles losing their tensed state, he sagged and dropped to a knee. “Get a healer, yes. Get a lot of them. And get to the Queen.”

“I fear that she was put under the same spell as these soldiers, as the Baron himself. She must be found and make sure that she was not hurt.” Lars looked around and watched as the gilded lining in the walls slowly shimmered blue before returning to its golden sheen. The magic of the man had coursed through the entire palace, used the magically soaked wood and the enchanted gilding to control the entire guard and servants. It was a thought that made the hacker uneasy, but his target was dead so it meant little now. “We better get a fucking massive reward for this. I don’t want some fucking gold star around my neck, I want a purse full of gold.”

[Taskmienster]

The common room was a mess, almost as bad as Colin’s house when his girlfriend was not there to nag him to clean it. He looked through the eyes of his computer programmed body and shook his head, unable to remove the grating feeling of unease that whispered in his thoughts. The administration of Althanas was closing much faster than he had anticipated, never before had any gaming communities staff been able to catch up with him so quickly. GramVR employed only the most experienced, most adept programmers from what he had heard. Though they were the rival company to his own, he could not help but feel a slight bit of admiration for their dedication. If he had half of the talent and competence expressed by the Althanas staff the necessity of hacking into the server and stealing information would not even be required. Unfortunately, it also meant that he would have to keep on his toes a lot more.

He edged his way past the half gutted couch, a dull long sword protruding from its side. Splinters of wood were splayed across the ground, some from a priceless bookshelf, other pieces from the frame of the furniture. All along the ground the moaning soldiers held their wounds, unsure of how they had been caused as their knowledge of blind obedience was erased with the death of the moderator. The blue gray eyes of the hacker watched the ‘magic’ of the healers pulse through the fallen men; actually saw the threads of coding that created the different forms of healing. Blue and red streaks flooded their bodies, a light blue haze clouded their eyes as the wounds closed and the blood stopped flowing. It would take much more than that to fix the rest of the room.

A transparent keypad appeared at Lars’ fingertips, visible only to him. He walked to one of the bookshelves and wedged the halberd head out of it, dropping it to the ground. Nobody turned to watch him; everyone’s eyes were busy guiding healing spells or cleaning up the weapons. With a few quick taps on the keypad he began to work. Coding was second nature, a skill he had known for as long as he could remember doing anything. Altering the code that he used to fix his own clothes, he turned it on the splintered wooden case. After a quick series of intricate, albeit simple for him, entries the cracks and fragments began to fill in and slowly recover. It was not even a minute later that the majority of the work was done, but he was interrupted by a rough clearing of someone’s throat.

“What?” He spat at the waiting, slim man. The rude expression that he had greeted Ethan and Miehm with at the entrance was replaced by a docile one. “Did you carry on my message and what I had to the Queen, or whoever the hell’s in charge of this place?”

“The Queen was taken ill by the plague of the scourge mage,” he responded politely with a small bow. “Unfortunately she will not be able to see you, as it was already planned, though for much different reasons than before. The Baron has been briefed on the story that you have given us, and is thrilled—“

“Fucking thrilled?!”

“—that you have been so bold as to venture from Olme to Scara Brae with the news. The fact that the scourge are behind the act comes as no surprise to him, and he wishes to request that you keep your information secretive for now. It is not unknown to the scourge that you are the one that brought the info to us, otherwise they would not have attempted to stop you so vigorously. You will be rewarded for your dedication to the good of our humble island, but we would also like to suggest that perhaps it would be best and most advantageous if you departed. Any further business that you have on the island will undoubtedly result in the Scourge becoming involved and attempting to kill you for what you have done. Until your time of departure you will be given escort anywhere in the city, free room and board –for both yourself and your partner – and a small guard until you decide to depart.”

“That is then?” The man nodded and smiled, turning his back to the hacker and the fallen men and walking down the corridor. Lars sighed and closed his eyes, one of his daggers had been taken for proof of his word, but he still had the other ones. They would be a small reward compared to what he had expected to gain from his death-defying deeds of heroics. Perhaps Althanas was built for heroes, but if it was they were getting fucked by the economy. Too many heroes, not enough bad guys, and the entire place was a means of little to no rewards because so much had to be doled out to everyone in equal proportions. He tapped the daggers and thought about what the man said. Perhaps it was best to leave, having the staff so close on his tail and his deeds so well spread throughout a server run organization meant that they would be able to find him… and the next time his chances may not turn in his favor.



Spoils:
2 delyn daggers from the scourge. Reward money for both of us.

[MetalDrago]

STORY ~

Continuity (6/10) ~
Task & Nony- Overall, pretty well done. I could not have honestly asked for much better. The events in the Brokenthorn Lumber logging company could have been explained a little more. Without reading the first thread, it would be hard to follow for someone who was not familiar with the first thread. Overall, it is possible that could have been done better.

Miehm- Could have been done better. As a matter of fact, I have no idea why you were there. You provided minimal background, and never so much as mentioned why you were there besides the fact that you were working for a lumber company looking to set up in Scara Brae, and who had direct reason to confront Brokenthorn Lumber Inc. I'd suggest you do work on this area.

Setting (6/10) ~
Task- Well done, if a little skimpy. You described the city of Scara Brae well enough, but it was lacking in that small something that makes it feel like your part of the action instead of looking at a picture of it. You had a few standout moments, and you described the post-battle scene exceedingly well. In fact, it was that description, not to mention your use of the globe and other items in the area that bumped this score this high.

Nony- You describe the setting rather minimally. You followed Task's lead in the description of the city, but as you dropped out of the thread before the action really got started, I'm not surprised at all, honestly. I'm sure had you continued with the thread till the end, you would have added more description, and I can be sure this would have been extremely apparent later on. However, this was not the case. Overall, a decent job, but nothing really standout.

Miehm- Description of the surroundings was sorely lacking. Besides the doorway being used to block those guards, you did very little to describe anything. You noted your character's reactions to physical elements, and yet you didn't elaborate on what those elements were. Like when he went through the gate, I recall he reacted to seeing something like that, but... What was it that caught his eye? A fountain in the courtyard, perhaps, or a statue? The grass, flowers, maybe? Overall, you didn't describe very much, and it hurt this score.

Pacing (4/10) ~ I was disappointed that both of Task's partners managed to drop out of the thread. This dramatically killed the pacing, as he basically had to write two characters out of the thread in order to finish. This proved troublesome. It was decent enough, but... At the end, he was the only one left, and it killed basically any chance of a good follow-up thread.

CHARACTER ~

Dialogue (6/10) ~
Task- Believable, and slightly vulgar. A veritable computer nerd, and holder of a rival company to Althanas, hell bent on gaining access to secret coding that will make his own game that much better. He's outspoken, but can be serious when the time comes. He has some phrases not much used in Althanas, but as he is from 'Earth', this is perfectly acceptable. I noticed a couple of out of character moments, but besides that, it was good. Overall, good job.

Nony- You played your character pretty believably, and showed him gaining influence in his speech from his travelling with Lars. Overall, decent, but I'd have liked to see his personality shine through a little more. I didn't get to know him very well, and I feel a little cheated in that, honestly, because from what I did see of his personality, he's very interesting.

Miehm- Fight for money, fight some more, and then fight a little more. Mercenary through and through. He doesn't mind playing along, and misses his original home on Earth. This makes him easy to read, but a little dull. His use of varying degrees of American slang made him sound a bit more believable, but his personality seems a little flat. You're developing somethng really promising with him, though, and should keep working on that. Overall, decent, shows promise, but you need to show what he's thinking a little more.

Action (6/10) ~ Action, action, everywhere. Never a dull moment. In that respect, there was never really much of a lull in combat, except when you guys went to go see the queen.

Task- You played Lars extremely well, an expert in dagger and projectile blade combat. It was well done, but I kinda wonder how many blades he has hidden on his person at one time. It was fun to read, though. You added a depth to the battle itself I'm almost certain comes from your experience playing with your other characters, realistically moving them in the directions you needed. Overall, good job.

Nony- Your pole broke when the old man attacked you. Nice touch. You even added his inexperience in combat outside of poles as a decent weakness. I didn't get to see him fight or do many actions that would be uncommon to others, so I can't say a whole lot more. Like I said, if you had stuck around, maybe I'd have seen a little more and would be better able to judge his actions. From what I saw, though, decent job.

Miehm- You fought off a veritable horde of inexperienced fighters with the weapons you had. You opened a gash on your leg, but... Well, for being a long, half-inch deep gash... He didn't show any signs of pain at all, and didn't tire any more quickly than he would have fresh from home. This wasn't believable.

Persona (7/10) ~

Task- Well done. You showed Lars' emotions pretty well, and those emotions tended to be anger, arrogance, and annoyance. I don't know if I'd count a nicotine addiction as an emotion, but that was well-played too. You kept to his personality, showing the emotions he felt to a degree I could feel them as he did, and I liked it. Very good.

Nony- You had your moments. He was surprised when he first entered the big city, and it showed really well. When you did show emotion, you showed it well, and that daydream sequence was, for lack of a better word, awesome. You did well, and this was, perhaps, you best field.

Miehm- Pretty much the same as Dialogue. He's a little flat, but nothing that can't be fixed by working some more and delving more into the characters mind than his actions. Actions are good, but without a reason behind those actions, and a personality to deduce actions from... well, you get the picture.

WRITING STYLE ~

Technique (6/10) ~ In this area, Task was probably the only one to heavily use foreshadowing and other devices in his writing. Nony and Miehm are in the same boat. They write in a very straightforward manner, forgoing the more intricate aspects in favor of something simple. Overall, Task did well when he did it, Nony and Miehm used it sparingly.

Mechanics (6/10) ~ Missing commas, miss-used words, and the occasional misspell or miss-apostrophe. Nothing out of the ordinary, but nothing a good read-through couldn't fix. Task's use of 'bloodied nose' to describe the soldier could have easily been done as 'bloody-nosed,' but that was a personal choice. It just made me have to reread it to be sure I knew what he meant. Overall, not bad, but I'd read it through before I hit the post button, if nothing else.

Clarity (6/10) ~ There were a few moments I got lost, but then I got right back on track. The 'bloodied nose' thing kinda affected it, as I had to reread those two paragraphs to be sure of the meaning, but other than that, it was overall pretty clear, and not that difficult to follow, even without reading the backstory on the Brokenthorn Lumber Inc. scandal.

Wild Card (4/10) ~ Despite everything that happened in this thread, Task managed to pull through with finishing it. Losing two partners must have been a crippling blow, but he trudged on and got it finished.

Overall 57/100

Spoils approved for Task, two delyn daggers with Scara Scourge markings, and 200 GP for him and Miehm. Task gets 2463 EXP and Miehm receives 614 EXP.

Loss of Cypress Pole for Nony, due to it being broken after the old man attacked him. A Nony Mouse receives 556 EXP and 200 GP

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

I level up to 3!

ANM didn't recieve the exp/gp due to the character being retired...