Sunken Ol' Treabur, The Den, Ujax Forest

Yanking my sword tip out from the corpse of the last wolf, I glance around warily before I let myself relax. Something I perhaps overlooked is that, in my day, there were hundreds of parties wandering around Ujax Forest, and among the regions with the densest concentration of players had to be The Den. Given that it is where the majority of the Dire Wolves spawn after being prematurely slain, the western edge of The Clearing was a logical place for them to camp out when the weather permitted for it.

As such, even taking a circumspect route to avoid clashing with them, we encountered more incidental packs of the blighters than I had anticipated. But I shan't complain, as it is still a great warm-up for the trial to come, and all extra Experience is gravy, even with the penalty for the Level difference in place and the ever-increasing cap. We can handle two dozen at once without straining ourselves visibly, too, so I likewise consider it a good sign of our chances in succeeding. Our composition isn't perfect, but we should be fine with what we're working with if this is any indication.

A small cheer goes up when the last of the stragglers fall dead. Too early to celebrate yet, in my opinion. Predicting that this lull may make moving them all difficult, I sheathe my sword and shout to gain their attention, "Not time for a break yet, we've still got a fair bit of walking to do. Get your lanterns lit, and move into the tunnel. It's about a twenty-minute walk from here to the dungeon entrance, so we'll stop to catch our breath when we arrive."

The good mood punctured, two or three people groan reluctantly, but on the whole, they've resolved to take my orders for what they are by now - since neither Mr Fathom, nor Ms Maclona, are all that concerned with contradicting me and undermining my authority over the operation. If I were to start yelling some insane, unreasonable demands, might be they'd object to me being nominally in charge. But that's not liable to be an issue.

Walking ahead of the group, I give more detailed instructions to the two Pack Mother teams to pass the time. Once we get in, we'll need to start moving immediately towards our holdout spot and ideally get to it before the first wave of enemies catches up to us since moving will be difficult when they do. We'll also need to clear the area of any roaming wolves at the same time, adding more to the initial engagement. It's random every time, but there's never more than twenty of them loitering there from my experience.

Easily dealt with, since our spellcasters will be freed up to do whatever is necessary. They've been clearly instructed to conserve as much MP as possible on the journey here so we don't have to burn any potions early. Stamina can be topped off for a much cheaper price by shovelling food down our throats and taking a load off for a minute at this Level, though it's still slower than MP to replenish and faster to be expended, which is why we took a break before entering The Den and why we'll be taking another at the entrance to the basin situated at the end of this tunnel.

We have it pretty easy right now, on that front. Hell, we don't even get full or need to heed the call of nature, so players are free to eat and drink their body weight in stale bread rolls and tepid well water. It's just unpleasant to do so, and risks being penalised by the Body Adaptability System adding several unwanted pounds of fat to our Vessels. You could generally tell if someone was a career Merchant by how rotund they'd let themselves become in my day.

I think Alchemical Marvels caused a small riot amongst foodies, come to think of it, when Hectic Works changed how satiety and so on worked for players. Amongst other things - a uh...certain demographic was very happy on the other hand because certain limitations on intimate interactions were relaxed.

So to speak.

I'm just saying, that there was a very mysterious uptick in the patronage and creation of brothels worldwide in the wake of the update by the playerbase. I don't think I need to explain further than that, now, do I?

After a while, the visibility in the tunnel improves, and the lanterns we've been utilising become steadily less useful. The incline we've been following increases in severity quickly before plateauing at the mouth of a cave shrouded in dense fog, an ominous feeling hanging in the air that's easy to figure out the origin of. Even if light seems to be passing through the barrier freely, it's impossible to see more than a few inches past the point at which we stop. I call for the squad to stop and take a breather, then stroll a little further ahead.

"As you can see," I intimate to Ms Maclona, "It is indeed quite real."

"I had little doubt," she smiles back thinly, annoyed by my attitude, "Is there a need to show off, though?"

Shrugging, I take a seat where I'm stood, crossing my legs, "Perhaps not, but you did reserve some doubt, did you not?"

Ms Maclona sighs, and joins me on the ground, taking a waterskin from her bag, "I did. In fairness, we barely know one another, so trust isn't what I'd consider being a significant part of our relationship with each other. Not like Jericho and his people."

"Mr Fathom has benefited greatly from us," I comment by way of explanation, "And the feeling is mutual. Perhaps after today, a similar relationship between yours and ours can be forged."

"Perhaps," Ms Maclona smiles diplomatically, "If there are other opportunities you have your eye on..."

I snort a laugh, "Subtle."

She smirks, "You got me. We're thinking of making trails after we've had our fill of this dungeon, so unless you're hiding more secrets about this content-barren stretch of nowhere, we'll not stick around for long."

"Understandable," I accede, taking a long swig of water, "But that's a conversation for after we've conquered this place."

"Of course," Ms Maclona lets it go, "If you don't mind me asking, how did you find out about this place?"

"Research," I lie, then briefly explain the history of the place as far as I understand it, "...If you ask around and put some effort into investigating the local lore, you can find a surprising amount of information. Assuming you ask the right people the right questions, of course. Just strolling up to a random Merrowan on the street and asking 'hey, are there any hidden dungeons or treasure around here?' isn't going to garner much success usually. At most, they'll tell you the publicly known ones, like Farmer's Folly."

"Don't misunderstand, it isn't as though we haven't been asking around or investigating leads," she sighs, "But it would seem you just happened to have had more success than we did. At least it worked out in the end, but honestly, I feel like that's poor consolation for the effort we went to."

"I know how that feels," I respond bitterly, "Some people are just naturally loved by Fate. For better or worse."

Jury's out on whether that includes me, I observe sarcastically in my mind. Wish I knew what really happened that day.

Windy

"Y'know, something about that style of dungeon entrance looks oddly familiar," Jupiter observes, loudly, squinting as though it'll let him see through the fog.

"It hardly matters," Angelus shrugs, "If you want to be pedantic, the floating magic crystals are just as derivative."

"Fair," Jupiter agrees, "So's the rest of the game when it comes down to it, but I don't know if it says more about the status quo in the video game industry or the audience. Myself included. Not gonna pretend I'm not in some way part of the problem when it comes to the consumption of unoriginal garbage, because my standards are actually lower than that when it comes to my entertainment needs. I am fuelled by niche garbage and overacted melodramatic schlock. Janissary's March, Idaho Mo, Plenty o' Plenty...All that uncannily bad shit."

He'd like my uncle. Two peas in a pod.

I stretch my arms out, and yawn luxuriously, rolling my head slightly to get the crick in my neck out. I've spent most of this walk with my head turned left and down while I was talking to Jade, and now it hurts to look in other directions. Makes me wonder if there's like, a painkiller potion like aspirin or something I can casually chug.

"You have eclectic taste," the new girl, Morn, comments evenly.

"Stick around, he gets weirder," Jade snorts.

"I'll take weird over boring any day," the maligned Wizard laughs obnoxiously, "Weird gets talked about and remembered, but I can't even remember what I did in my last music class. Something about Salieri and then Yancy started blaring hypertechno..."

"Nobody asked~" Jade shuts him up with a glare.

"Hey, where'd the lovebirds go?" I blink, realising that Ji-Horizon, fuck, and Grand seem to be missing.

"They're off in the back talking to some people from Wolf Hunt," Olrica answers drowsily, "Last I saw 'em anyway."

"And Silver is...hitting on the Sober Morning guild leader, looks like," Jupiter adds.

"Literally nobody," Jade reiterates, tossing a pebble-sized piece of bread at his face.

"Hey, cut it out," I frown, getting only a roll of her baby blues in response. God, you're such a brat lately.

"In lieu of other topics to discuss, what do you all think of the dungeon as described by Silver?" Morn brings up a more relevant subject of conversation.

"Easy," Jade shrugs, "Probably."

"It's literally not, though? We're going for Normal first try aren't we?" Jupiter interjects.

"To hear him tell it, there's functionally no difference if you're bringing in the minimum player count. You just get both Pack Mothers showing up at 40+ people on the same wave and some more Adults than Adolescents," I recall, folding my arms, "Or something. I'll be honest, I don't think it matters. After Arevas, I don't think anything'll come close for a while."

"Don't underestimate it," Angelus warns, "This is still a dungeon. And one with a larger scale than anything we've done so far, at that."

"At least you get to be useful," Olrica gripes, chin in hand, hunched over and sulking, "The fuck am I supposed to do here?"

"Be my backup plan," Jade shrugs, indifferent, "In the extremely unlikely chance that I, like, die to the rabid megadog."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll just, I dunno, stand vaguely to one side and hope that I don't need to wrestle a wolf the size of a small house," she grumbles.

"Stay positive, for I shall annihilate any and all opponents in my effective range!" Jupiter brags shamelessly, "You have no idea how excited I am to be able to just cut loose and..."

He sucks a breath in and shudders. Ew.

"...Quite," Morn channels Silver, with the same blank, judging expression he gets when Jupiter mouths off too much.

"Jupiter," Angelus covers his face with his palm, "Please keep any 'explosions' limited to the magical kind in the general direction of the horde of wolves."

"Seems that everyone is feeling lively," I chuckle, feeling a bit of anticipation blooming within myself.

"Alright everyone, time's up, up'n at 'em!" Mr Fathom shouts over the low buzz of casual chitchat, "Into formation, and gear ready to go!"

"You have better projection than I do," I comment quietly, as everyone scrambles to obey, "Do you have a job like this?"

"Nah, just a humble florist," he replies humbly, "Truth be told, my own voice isn't all that strong in Reality."

"Could have fooled me," Ms Maclona laughs, "You could give me a run for my money, and half of my job is yelling at people."

"Sounds tiresome," he smiles softly, "I'm more than happy to let my partner handle the customer side of things. He's a chatterbox, so it suits him just fine."

"The opposite of my husband, then," she smirks, "If you aren't one of his animal charges - or me - don't even bother trying to talk to him."

Feeling a little left out of the conversation, I decide against speaking up about my single status and go to join in with the rest of the group, donning my helmet on the way. Dating is not exactly a priority right now. Busy, busy, busy.

"'sup, boss," Windy greets me as I take my place next to her, "You nervous?"

"Not especially. We should be fine from what I've seen," I assure her, "We definitely can't handle the extra pressure from a larger group size with this standard, but there's no benefit I know of to do that. Except for bragging rights, which are pretty cheap recompense. It's like boasting that you're the very tip of the average."

"I think I get it?" she says, obviously not getting it at all, "But uhhh..."

Windy coughs and lowers her voice to a whisper, "If we're just here for the completion, do we really need to do it on Normal?"

"Since there's little difference in difficulty for us with our composition, we might as well take the better drop chances," I mutter, "Besides which, I don't know the full conditions for the Legacy, just where to find it, so better safe than sorry."

It would be just like Astral Reckoning for it to need you to have completed it on the maximum allowable difficulty. Or fulfil some other esoteric conditions - but if Hadrian could do it, then I don't see why I can't, frankly. Unless the Wolf Lord's remnant will is specifically looking for a self-entitled brat like him, in which case that might be an issue. As long as we get a chance to talk, I'll give it my best shot to convince him in any case.

"Maybe should have led with that when you were explaining it," she advises, nudging me with her elbow.

"Maybe," I admit, "It's hard to keep track of everything. I feel as though if I stop thinking about everything I need to keep in mind it'll slip away before I know it."

As time goes by and my document of notes expands into several lengthy reports, that should be less of an issue, but it only seems to be getting worse. The fact that I'm less drained after a day spent in VR is becoming an excuse to do more work outside of it. But I can't stop. I don't have - no, we don't have that freedom. Nobody understands that better than me.

"Hey, boss, you alright?" Windy nudges me again, and I feel like a balloon of stress deflating. I'm surprised she noticed under all the armour.

"No," I grunt, "It'll be fine. Time to get to work."

I breathe in, and out, steadying myself. It doesn't take long, maybe less than a few seconds. Calm, I draw my sword, inhale deeply and call loudly for the squad to move out.

Wolf Lord's Remains, Malvin Basin, Ujax Forest

Pushing through the blanket of white, colour appears as though at the edge of a damaged painting, and the dense aroma of 'nature' replaces the musty, damp tunnel we used to get here. Grass comes up to our knees alongside a well-trodden dirt path that winds out into a vast meadow nestled into a basin near the apex of Ujax Hill. To the North, or I suppose our West, is a small lake that spills over the edge of the plateau and down into Goldmoss, where it assumes a rather less pleasant colour and composition.

Along the south short is the burnt-out husk of a two-storied log cabin, barely visible at this distance and one of only a few major landmarks. The one we are presently rushing toward is a large lilac-leafed Kommen Tree to the direct South, growing it's roots over an area rife with rocky outcroppings and trenches. If we keep this pace up...we won't make it in time to meet the first wave of Dire Wolves.

"Faster!" I yell, "We won't make it in time if we don't speed up!"

The main problems with Wolf Lord's Remains, setting aside the obvious issue of not triggering the entire horde into attacking you, are terrain and numbers. With such a lush expanse of green, green, and more nothing, the well-acquainted Dire Wolves are free to do whatever they want with their fantastic sprinting speeds and plentiful numbers. Surrounding and grinding any group of players caught out in the open to meat paste.

There are only a few viable places to hold out, but if you want to deal with the bosses with the strategy I'm using, there's really only one option, which is the area directly around that tree, since the roots have greatly disturbed the terrain and created a number of caves, trenches and outcroppings which a tactically minded group can exploit to their advantage.

In a way, it's not unlike what we did during the ambush Giovanni attempted.

We need to take the high ground, in a spot that they can't flank us. That way, they can't easily jump our frontline and cause havoc amongst our mages and archers, and they will likewise be funnelled into a chokepoint to cut away their options. It's not foolproof, and it sounds really obvious, but the advantage to this spot, in particular, is the existence of a cave nearby which the Poril team will be shoving the would-be tactician into, and one of the Kommen Tree's main roots being positioned just perfectly for someone to lead Groti around by the nose like she's chasing her own tail.

The major downside, of course, is that once we settle in there, getting out is nigh-impossible once the fighting starts. Unless you fancy jumping off the cliff and praying you land softly. Which you won't, because it's a 30ft drop. Give or take. Maybe if you used tools or a special ability, but if you have that kind of thing already, I have to question what you're doing in WLR to begin with. Such things are better used in the service of treasure hunting and theft.

Gives me a few ideas, actually. Thoughts for later. Might need to have a chat with Morn and Olrica about setting up a black ops division sooner than I planned for.

Breathing smoothly, I run with practised poise and efficient strides. A complete contrast to most other people, the spellcasters especially, who are clearly struggling to keep up. We've got less than two minutes left to go before they're upon us, and maybe a dozen of them we passed by bringing up the rear, getting closer and closer since our pace is being made to accommodate for the slowest runners.

"Keep going!" Mr Fathom shouts encouragement, despite sounding more out of breath than most of us. Quirstic spellcasters have it rough.

Closer now, the dense grass falls away into rocky ground, pebbles kicked up by the many thundering feet of the squad. I can see our objective from here, now, and raise my free arm to point it out, "There! Almost-shit!"

I cut myself off with a curse, noticing the approach of the first wave out the corner of my vision when I turn around. A mass of greys and browns streaking through the grass, leaving lines marking their passing behind them. We were too slow getting there, but we might be able to just barely make it with the distance between us. Without the dense brush to slow us down, the only thing we need to contend with now is the winding path through the trenches and a sharp incline. It evens out either way to about 30 seconds. Judging by the speed of the Dire Wolves, they'll be on us in about the same amount of time.

"First wave approaching!" Ms Maclona calls out, also realising our predicament, "Move your asses!"

Times like this make me miss large scale movement buffing abilities, like the Windsinger from my old guild's Whistling Windcurrent Skill. 30 seconds of 90% increased movement so long as we followed behind him. Very useful. Movement-based utility was always valued at a premium as a tactical necessity - even better if it was efficient or especially impactful like intercontinental chantless, instant mass group teleportation, which would see you offered hundreds of thousands in scouting fees from CIGs and Saint affiliated organisations. And hunted down as an incomparable threat. Whistling Windcurrent was on the lower end due to its conditional nature and cooldown, but being a Skill it was relatively cheap and wasn't affected by environmental mana deficiency or other forms of magic suppression nearly as much. Trade-offs.

Reaching the foot of the incline, I make a call, "Frontliners to the back, hold them off while the others get into position and make a fighting retreat until I give the call! Nobody else engages, get to where you need to be!"

I skid to a halt, letting them move on by, getting jostled a little in the process. The random wolves we picked up on the way here arrive in seconds of me giving the order. I count five Adolescents and six Adults. Not an issue on it's own, but the first Wave is too close for comfort and our formation is in disarray. Even so, there's about a dozen of us to contend with them, and by a generous estimate, each one of us is worth at least five Adults on our own. For me and Windy, easily twice that with respect to what I've seen of her compared to most of the rest.

Miss Leovoldt and Olrica can probably handle a little more, but Olrica's Class isn't suited to duking it out face to face and Miss Leovoldt's fighting style seems to place a preference on movement, rather than standing her ground. But I could be mistaken.

Idly, I cut down the Adolescent closest to me, taking care not to break from the haphazard line that's formed. I can take down low-grade fodder in a single well-placed hit now, but they're going to catch wise to the danger we pose fairly quickly. In fact, the Adults are slowing down, and not engaging recklessly like the Adolescents are, and, well, they're dead now as a result. Unsurprisingly.

I lock gazes with one specimen of the Adults, and feel a primitive intelligence staring right back at me. Not unlike a particularly well-trained hunting dog, fittingly enough. Even if time has certainly passed since the time of their ancestors under the Wolf Lord's ownership, they still have the instincts and pedigree to show for it. Well, those who make it to adulthood do at least.

They're not idle though, they move in and out, gauging our reaction speeds and reach. One gets a little too cocky and takes a spear through the eye for their trouble, courtesy of one of the Sober Morning members. It scrabble on the stone floor, whining in pain, but before it can be finished off, another moves in, latching it's jaw around the end of the spear and growling savagely.

"Shit! It's got my spear!" the poor soul calls out, "Help!"

Help arrives in the form of a boot to the head courtesy of Ms Leovoldt breaking formation. Staggered, the wolf relinquishes it's grip on the spear and makes it's owner stumble from the whiplash. As if waiting for an opportunity, though, three more Adults rush in to pick her off.

"Back in formation!" I roar, "Do not get caught out!"

Luckily, she listens and jumps back, then launches into a reverse somersault over the steadily retreating frontline. Denied their easy victory, the wolves charge in, dodging around the clumsy thrusts of weaponry and slamming into their wielders with the back of their shoulders. The line holds, but more by virtue of the fact that the whole line is constantly reversing. If we were stood perfectly still they'd have created an opening with that move to slip past. As it is, the people adjacent fend them off while the victims of the bodyslams recover, and together they finish off two but fail to finish the third.

"In position!" Angelus calls out from somewhere much further behind, "Ready when you are!"

Just in time, because the first wave is almost here.

"Thin the incoming wave out! Frontline, speed up, get into position now!" I command, turning tail and running the last stretch of ground.

The battle well and truly begins now. Let's party.

IdleFancy

Two-parter. Expect the next one to be done before 2020 ends. If it ever does, still holding out expectations we're going to be groundhog day'd back to January and made to do it all over again the right way this time. If it does, make sure you track down Bill Murray, he'll be our only hope.