Darkest Dreamers Alliance Leaders

Private Meeting Room, Druff & Bluff Inn

The Right Seat shuffles uncomfortably in his chair, grunting and huffing with consternation, to the displeasure and irritation of his allied leaders, "Chrrrist my ass itches. Fuckin' dire wolf piece of shit."

"I'd give you something more pertinent to complain about, but the screenshot of a dire wolf hanging on to your ass cheek for dear life as you run is proving to be a source of infinite amusement," the Middle Chair remarks drily.

"Fuck off, scrawny bastard," the Right Chair grunts, finally settling down, "Need better healing spells for my boys. Any news on what the Hedge Mages're meant to be doing now that the Mentor's been fuckin' arrested?"

"Supposedly, the new Administrator of the Pioneers' Alliance is to be some manner of spellcaster," the Left Chair mentions, rolling a Stone Silver along her fingers, "That may be our next source of basic spells. Personally, I'm more interested in the latest news from the mine."

"Oh?" the Middle Chair leans slightly over, his curiosity piqued.

"A team called Holy Spring Orchard have cleared The Pool of Desire," she chuckles, "Which marks the third team to do so, and as with Rambling Rose, they apparently took up Silver Nosster on his offer to sell strategies."

"So, it's confirmed to be accurate, then?" the Middle Chair hums, "Then it won't be long before it goes public. Which means that we are due some rather juicy profits."

"Good. I'm runnin' low on pocket money," the Right Chair grumbles.

"That man must have set a hefty price for his feeding of Silver Nosster," the Left Chair needles him, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Don't fucking remind me," the Right Chair growls, "But I brought him in knowing what he's like. He'll get the job done eventually."

"The sooner the better," the Middle Chair adds, "We can't have him damaging our prestige any further, or else we'll have to reconsider the rankings. First Falk, then Gates, and now even Rescotti. Shameful."

"Right, Third Assassin should have been released today with all the others," the Right Chair realises, "Or was it tomorrow?"

"At noon today, forgetful oaf," the Left Chair sneers.

"Mind the insults," the Middle Chair chides, "Save your vitriol for enemies."

The Left Chair huffs, clenching her fist around her coin, "I'll say whatever I damn well please. Annoyingly, many of those imprisoned have since quit the game."

"Hard to blame them," the Middle Chair shrugs, "The novelty of running a criminal empire is entertaining enough for me to persevere, however."

The Right Chair taps his foot impatiently, "Bah, all I care about is milkin' what money we can get out of this shithole and going back to Valiant Advance. Get ahold of that strategy guide for Miner's Nightmare and send 'em all through. Tired of makin' chump change."

"I daresay a higher priority should be given to progressing our accounts," the Middle Chair declares, "We've been beneath the Level 10 mark for too long, as have the rest of the local players, save for Truthseekers' members, who continue to pull further and further ahead, and those Wolf Hunt hillbillies."

"Agreed," the Left Chair taps her fingers on her armrest, "Greater strength will beget greater profit. It is also necessary in order to maintain our control of the playerbase in Meteo City."

"To that end, I've requested that Raven Plume and Giovanni tail their hunting expedition into the forest to learn their methods," the Middle Chair reveals, "We can't let them take a monopolising interest in the only hunting grounds."

"Both of them at once?" the Left Chair marvels, "My, what deep pockets you have."

"On the contrary, Giovanni agreed to do it for free," he laughs smugly, "Even thanked me for the information."

"Fuckin' psycho," the Right Chair curses, "Should've left him in Futile Journey."

"Is that where you found that thing?" the Left Chair inspects her nails, "Well, that certainly explains a lot. Those people are savages through-and-through."

"That tends to be the case with veterans of post-apocalypse VRMMOs," the Middle Chair agrees, standing up, "If that's all, I would like to go attend to business outside."

Sober Morning's Officers

Sheveret Troop Encampment, Fander Field

In one of the many large tents spread across the encampment like shingles, a few men and women of varied races meet for a relatively important decision, namely the subject of the proposal that has been sitting in their, figuratively speaking, back pockets. The subject of cooperation with what was, at one point, a relatively unknown player despite the mild fame he garnered.

"At this point, prevaricating further will only make us look cowardly," a swarthy Kon man declares in a voice that brooks no dissent from his peers.

A Silva woman wearing a full set of Vacantsoul cocks her head, "While he has certainly proven his capability well enough, the terms he offered are far too one-sided."

"By all accounts, his team is only a small one, so perhaps there's room for negotiation," a lion-headed Panoplast murmurs, scratching at his mane, "Even accounting for the participation of Wolf Hunt, it wouldn't be unreasonable to demand better terms."

"If numbers alone were enough to sway him, then the Boulder Gate Incident would have cowed him," a female wyvernblood Panoplast scoffs, "We're barely holding on to level 8 at our best, trying to break through the last boss of Miner's Nightmare - never mind Farmer's Secret with our tanks in Beginner's Bronze and most of our damage dealers swinging around Copper-Tier scrap metal. We're not even close to strong enough for simple quantity to be meaningful."

"On that note, how are negotiations with Wolf Hunt to embark on an expedition into the forest?" a more authoritative Firm man with short red hair questions.

"Going well," the confident Kon smiles, "They've - provisionally - agreed to cooperate. However, they too lack sufficient post-class change personnel, so we just have to wait for them to beef up more of their elites."

"Good-o," a chipper, short Firm woman beams, "I heard from a friend of mine in there that they're going out on another hunting trip with Truthseekers tomorrow. Think we can squeeze a few of our people in there with them?"

"Not until we clear up matters regarding our co-operation for the dungeon that's supposedly somewhere in there," the Silva woman shakes her head, "We can't overreach, or it will affect our standing when it comes time to negotiate. Remember, Silver came to us with the proposition, which gives us the initiative. If we start asking for benefits external to that proposition, it can be considered as a form of payment."

"True, but if we already lack the ability to participate as things stand without him to give us shortcuts, then what use is there in posturing?" the chipper Firm huffs, "Bluffing isn't effective when there's too large a gap between reality and expected reality."

"In other words, we need to be patient and deal directly with Wolf Hunt instead, separate from Truthseekers, once they've ridden the bus to their destination," the wyvernblood muses, "Even so, we need to make our interest known before he grows impatient and finds someone else. We've taken too long to come to an agreement."

"Yeah, well, some of us have jobs," the lion-headed man grumbles, "Let's see you manage this much on an 11-hour work shift."

The Kon rolls his eyes, "And you make at least twice my annual salary, cry me a fucking river."

"Boys, behave," the Silva woman lets out a long-suffering sigh, massaging tired eyes, "So, we're in agreement as to how we should proceed?"

A chorus of 'ayes' and 'yes's' brings the matter to a close.

"Then I will make contact with Silver Nosster once I log off," she states, then fixes the Kon with an even stare, "Try to get a more concrete date out of Mr Fathom tomorrow. I'll be offline for a couple of days while I travel."

"Orders received, boss," he nods in understanding, "Take it that I've full authority to negotiate with him then?"

"If it comes to that, bring Jacie with you," the Silva woman orders, "She's better at it than you."

The Firm woman giggles, "Rent-mon attempts 'Suck Up'. Stunning failure!"

"Fuck off," the Kon - Rent - glares back.

"Language," the guildmaster scolds, "I swear looking after you all is like herding teenaged cats."

Alex's Room, Le Chevalier

Lying half-awake on my bed, I have to admit that it's hard to motivate myself to keep at my nightly activities, combing the internet for inconsistencies, researching how to start and run a business, responding to private messages, creating and amending plans for the future...It's almost more than I can handle on a good day. But even if I got a fair bit done and finished early, the dive enablers are still running through my system, and that, is getting close to a tipping point.

Uncomfortably close. Jade ambushed me with another FTD this morning, and I came close to failing near the end when it came to the concentration tests. I've spent so much time inside that on top of the chemical muck running through my body, it's like trying to write a complete symphony after 12 shots of tequila and a chaser of absinthe. Sluggish, hard to focus, scatterbrained.

It's fine when i'm inside, since my mind is largely divorced from fleshy concerns back in reality through a complicated multi-stage process I won't claim to understand the mechanics of. Something to do with taking snapshots of brain patterns and running multiple versions of the user at once in a simulation that filters back and forth...or something.

In other words, it's a lot of stress on the brain, but greatly limited by the dive enabler and their end of the connection.

The day after we deal with Arevas is when I intend to take a day off. Even if I didn't want to, the encounter would likely leave even someone healthy uncommonly drained for the experience. I'm still not clear on what exactly we can do to avert disaster, and probably won't be until I'm there in the moment. The information that Olrica gave me was vague, incomplete, and only served to reinforce the idea that Arevas can't be beaten by us, which I refuse to accept.

Putting aside my personal feelings, I'm well aware of how much freedom we're afforded in how we tackle the challenges presented by the game, and with this being the first major storyline event, the hand of artifice is likely in play from the developers or the administrative AI. They won't have put a functionally nigh-impossible task in place, else the Quest would have been rated Astral-Tier difficulty instead of Platinum.

So, accordingly with the rest of the encounters that are related to and spawned from Arevas, there is going to be a gimmick that Rambling Rose missed. What, exactly, that gimmick is...I don't know. I'm drawing a complete blank.

But speaking of which, I still need to give Olrica a piece of my mind. I can't be having people tracking my phone down in the future just because someone couldn't use their indoor voice.

Or so I think to myself, but my body, now at rest, is singularly unwilling to move according to my wishes. Stiff as a corpse experiencing rigor mortis, I muse morbidly. Getting out of bed in the morning will be a trial, and an unpleasant one.

Silver-Tier Difficulty Quest Accepted: Get the fuck out of bed.

Heh.

Kanji would have gotten a kick out of that, I sigh, feeling a little lonely as memories of my old Guild invade my calm. The urge to try and reconnect returns, but the knowledge that the people I knew and fought alongside don't exist in this world tempers the impulse. They're all much younger, now, if they're even alive at all such as in the case of Yllis, who just turned twenty a few weeks ago. Relative to my perception of time that is.

She won't even be a twinkle in her parents' eye for another nine years or so, assuming my meddling in events doesn't somehow lead her to not existing at all. A depressing thought, but even without me, the existence of other Inheritors promises changes big and small. Nothing for it, really.

Forcing myself upright, I fumble along the creases of my duvet cover for my phone in the darkness, bleary-eyed and sore. Glancing through the messages left in the chatroom for Truthseekers, I take some small solace that I've formed some new connections, leave a response, and bring up Olrica's number.

"Uhh, hey, Silver..." the anxious voice of Olrica sounds through after a few dial tones, "'sup?"

"Discretion, noun, the act of exercising a certain degree of caution and secrecy when it comes to important matters," I recite slowly, trying to keep the fatigue out of my voice as much as I can.

"Yeah, sorry," Olrica laughs it off, guilty as can be, "She's technically my boss, though, and she didn't have any ill-intent I could pick up on, so it was hard to say 'no'. Y'know?"

I sigh, "Let's just leave it as you owing me a large favour, and move on. Don't do it again. Especially not if Hadrian himself catches wind and asks."

"Yeah, read you loud and clear," Olrica accepts, "You calling just for that though, or is there something else?"

Astutely read, "Assuming that Generous Morning informed you of her intentions in calling me, I'd like to ask for your opinions on the matter as I have no familiarity with her nor her circumstances."

"Uhhh, you lost me. She just said she wanted to talk to you," Olrica answers, confused. I guess they're not as closely linked as I first supposed?

"If she didn't choose to inform you, I will have to demand you exercise that thing called 'discretion' I just outlined for you before I reveal it," I inform her, reaching over to my bedside table for a sip of tepid tapwater.

"Sure, can do."

"Miss Morning has expressed interest in leaving Rambling Rose for Truthseekers," I reveal.

Silence reigns from the other end of the call for a good ten seconds before a shocked Olrica responds again, "You for serious?"

"Do you want to try that again with proper grammar?" I raise a brow.

"Don't care," Olrica huffs, serious, "Jess- I mean, she really asked to join your guild?"

I let the slip of part of what I presume to be Generous Morning's real name slide, "Yes, in response to the advertisement for capable administrative personnel."

"Huh. Well, shit, that's...huh..." I can practically hear her brain stalling and trying to restart.

"Need a minute?" I ask blithely, rolling my stiffening shoulder to prevent it seizing up.

"No, just, weirded out. She tell you why?"

"While I doubt it's the entire story, she claimed that she felt her prospects would be better if she joined Truthseekers instead," I suppress a yawn.

"Wwweeirrd," Olrica expresses her confusion by drawing the word out, "She didn't strike me as the reckless type. Pretty sure she's making at least 6 figures working here."

"You can hardly judge her in that regard," I remind her of our 'deal'.

"Yeah, well, she was brought on internally, and I was already thinking of leaving," Olrica tries to defend herself, with little success.

"Before we get permanently lost on this tangent, I would like an answer to my previous question."

Olrica hems and haws, "Wwwell, she's a shit liar. Like, really, really bad at it. So, whatever she told you was probably true? I don't know want man, what you see is basically what you get."

"So her interest is, in your mind, genuine?" I question.

"Mhm. Couldn't tell you why though, all she really seems to care about is getting her job done, doing it well and getting paid. I basically never see her not working," Olrica mutters, "The only times she isn't is when she's in the bathroom, sleeping or moving to a place to work. Girl has a major case of workaholism, you ask me."

"Anything else spring to mind?"

"Nope."

"Then thank you for your time. I'll just remind you that we will be attending our audience with Arevas the day after tomorrow, so if anything - anything at all - springs to mind, please inform me promptly," I sincerely request, "Every little scrap of information helps and could mean the difference between success and abject failure."

"Sure, sure," Olrica brushes me off, "Later."

"B-"

Gone. Rude.

I'll deal with the rest in the morning, I feel about ready to pass out.

IdleFancy

Corrected a mistake in more recent chapters where I started referring to 'Resilience' as 'Tenacity' instead, which isn't a stat. Must have conflated them when I was writing the Reaver Class statblock. If I missed any instances or if I start doing it again, let me know.

Also, 100 readers reached. Hello!