A Few Days Ago
Medde Olk
The Mole and Field Tavern, Meteo Town
Although the cramped excuse for a city-turned-town is abuzz with activity, it wouldn't be fair to say that everyone in the local player community had lost their heads in favour of rampage. In point of fact, the more than thousand-strong army of Infamous players only represented about half of those that continued to play Astral Reckoning in Meteo Town, if one were to be generous.
Rather, of the playerbase that was active through most of any given day, the majority of that dataset could be said to be rudderless addicts in the Darkest Dreamers Alliance's pocket, led by the promise of a paltry $100 per person per day spent trying to evict Truthseekers, and wresting control of Meteo from the resident NPCs. Not even half of the average minimum wage worldwide for a rather grandiose and - in the eyes of the cooler heads in the other half, who had other responsibilities outside the game to ground themselves - frankly baffling undertaking.
So what if they managed to remove the competition and occupy Meteo?
It was a quiet, podunk kind of place in the middle of buttfuck nowhere...and the only truly exciting thing to happen there was taken away almost as quickly as it occurred when Silver and his newly formed official (whatever that meant) guild bumrushed most of the event bosses - within a day - without any consideration for the rest of the playerbase.
In short, the value of Meteo Town in the eyes of these players was minuscule, and depending on how realistic the world of Merrow was, liable to backfire, as demonstrated by the appearance of an idiot NPC at Miner's Nightmare claiming their occupation of a dungeon was somehow 'illegal'. Quite a few people had experience with other living world VRRPGs and knew that wouldn't be the end of it.
This didn't mean they particularly sympathised with the persecuted Truthseekers, however. The fact remained that they sucked out all the fun of discovery and a number of hidden benefits from the starter zone. That hadn't changed, and all in all the Guild's reputation was split between rank envy and begrudging respect.
"I'm telling you, Medde, the money they're offering to post-First Step users is at least ten times that of the sub-Level 10 randos," Marcus, a Silva mercenary explains patiently, "Truthseekers is already as good as doomed, might as well get some money for speeding the transition along."
"I won't deny that the situation appears to be that of an inevitable defeat," Medde rumbles, "But they've held on this far with only the one death. Against hundreds. I simply don't see the point in kicking their fingers as they dangle from the cliff trying to pull themselves back up when I could instead be doing something more personally productive like attempting Wolf Lord's Remains."
"And you think that DDA is going to let anyone leave Meteo without their permission?" Joccam laughs sarcastically into his mug of beer, "Fat fuckin' chance, man. Have you seen how many dudes they have clogging up the market in front of Boulder Gate?"
"I have," Medde slowly nods, "And I find it to be counterproductive to DDA's stated aim of kicking Truthseekers out of the town. Besides which, my subscribers are clamouring to see the inside of an 'Ancient Battlefield' and I really don't feel like being raked over the coals by the people actually paying my for my rent over some bloodied chump change."
"You're not live right now are you?" Marcus asks anxiously.
"Not for another two hours," the Urso shakes his head, "I'll be meeting with my employers in one."
"Oh, cool. How many are you bringing along? Got any space?" Joccam asks - eyes a-glitter with the promise of wealth and experience points.
"I believe it's 45 people out of 50, but they haven't mentioned wanting to fill it out completely," Medde takes a sip of his drink and licks his lips, "Less competition for drops this way I'm guessing. If nothing else, I'm getting a nice 10 Stone Gold and €300 just for agreeing to participate."
"That much?" Joccam groans, "Damn. Should have picked a tank over wizard. You get all the good jobs."
"You had the option to become a healer," Marcus points out, "Just like any other Hedge Mage. You'd be getting paid half as much again for dungeon content, easy."
"Fuck that," he puffs air through his lips, "I'm not built for that level of responsibility. Not a masochist either."
"Well, there you go then," Marcus rolls his eyes, "Damage dealers are second-class citizens no matter the game because you're a dime-a-dozen. Tanks and healers are scarce, so they get jobs coming to them, and you have to fight your way through an ocean of indistinguishable nobodies."
"Hey fellas," Klare, a female Kon Assassin dumps three fresh mugs of ale down on the table and hops over the bench, "Hear the news?"
"Depends on how fresh it is," Medde demurs.
"The last Town Guard patrol just got offed," Klare mumbles halfway into one mug, "That stuck-up bitch, Radiant Springwater got 'em like half an hour ago."
"Hm," Medde frowns, "I guess that means Truthseekers just lost their biggest shield."
"Maybe, maybe not," Klare pushes the empty first mug out of the way with a happy belch, "DDA's shitboots rampaging across the city got the rest of the big shots like Rambling Rose spooked, so they've been putting some feelers out to each other to figure out some kind of resistance coalition or something. 'spect they'll have a recruiter showing up any minute now looking for post-First Step mercs to beef up their numbers."
"Not really interested in taking sides," Medde sighs, "Still, I'll listen to what the terms and pay are. As long as it doesn't interfere with my existing obligation, a war of liberation against a bunch of hooligans might be good vid content."
"Aren't you like, going to Wolf Lord's with those 'hooligans'?" Joccam leans in, judging.
"Sure," Medde shrugs, "They're paying well, and the job is something me and my viewers are interested in. Whether it's Silver Nosster or DDA, I don't care beyond what they can do for me."
"How hard have your subs dropped since you started playing this dross?" Klare questions from the bottom of her second mug.
"They've been going up actually," Medde smiles proudly, "The review I put up last week's been doing well, so I've gotten some spill-over. When I checked this morning I was hovering around...2k?"
"Broke the 1.9k curse, huh?" Marcus laughs, "Hey, send some of that popularity my way."
"Screw off," Medde snorts, "You don't need the help."
The door to the tavern slams open, and a dozen people decked out in dungeon gear stream in. Their identities aren't unknown to the patrons, as they'd made names for themselves clearing Miner's Nightmare, and most recently, Farmer's Secret. Of the unofficial guilds operating in Meteo they also had the most people past the First Step outside of DDA, which was more of a loose collective.
"Looks like the Pavillion's dogs," Klare snorts derisively, "Assholes."
"I can see a couple of Adventurists' top talents, wonder what they're doing with the Pavillion?" Joccam speculates.
Medde's eyes narrow, "I'm more concerned about how many of them have shown up. They don't look too friendly."
Klare's nose wrinkles in disgust, "Oh. Fan-fuckin'-tastic, she's here. Thieving-"
"Keep it under wraps, Klare, don't drag us into your grudge match with Dawn," Marcus cautions her severely, "Some of us would still like to get contracts."
A Silva woman - one who had clearly spent a truly luxurious amount of time on every detail of her Vessel's physical characteristics - steps through the parting crowd, her equipment half of a set of Vacantsoul, the other slots taken by rare drops from the forest and Farmer's Secret. Few players in Meteo could claim to have as much, and most of those that match or exceed her are from Truthseekers.
"If I could please have the attention of everyone here, we have come with news and an urgent plea," the woman's pleasantly melodious voice appears to reach all ears despite not raising her voice even a fraction of a decibel, people from the second floor, seemingly also able to hear it start poking their heads down the stairs in curiosity, "The Darkest Dreamers Alliance has made too much of a disruptive nuisance this time. Although we do not see a reason to intercede in their dispute with Truthseekers, the chaos they have sown, the wholesale slaughter and destruction of NPCs and the ludicrous blockade they have attempted to impose on those wishing to leave the town have forced the hands of my Pavillion of Myriad Dao and other like-minded organisations, from Rambling Rose and Adventurists to Master Dragon. We hope that you will consider joining us in quelling this anarchy, at least for the time being. We welcome mercenaries and additional partners to the forming coalition of interests. Thank you."
Dawn bows gracefully, and moves to one side to await petitioners and answer questions of a few curious members of the tavern audience while her retinue looks on imposingly.
Klare sniffs, "'Her' Pavillion. As if."
"That's a rather unnerving ability," Joccam comments, scratching at his ticklish ear, "How'd she do that?"
"She's a bard or something," Klare grunts, "But like, offensively oriented."
"Interesting," Medde murmurs, wondering what kind of viewership count he can pull with a civil war amongst players.
Irikis Falk
Watrnfell Street, Behind Town Hall, Meteo Town
Ever since Irikis had crossed paths with the most notorious single player in the Meteo batch of players, his life in-game which initially looked to be so bright with the inexplicable acquisition of some sort of premonition that showed the way to a hidden dungeon at the start of the game he could monopolise and make a killing off of...turned to complete shit, as the dungeon was fully completed by Silver Nosster, cutting off his best shot at becoming a magnate in Meteo City.
Irikis' repeated failures every time he so much as brushed against the wake of that arrogant prick had plummeted him further and further into obscurity, until he'd been kicked out of DDA's top assassins and his old group of three years - Knives of Erebus - altogether. The disfavour thankfully only lasted a brief period and even then the details were only known to those who sat atop the thrones at the very height of Darkest Dreamers' bizarre hierarchy.
All that had just changed, however.
With his knife in the back of the neck of one of the only three remaining Town Guards not assigned to an important building within Meteo, and the assassin rankings in shambles with the loss of one of it's rankers as well as the holder of the number one spot going mysteriously missing, he'd been given a chance to redeem his past incompetence. If for no other reason than because they needed to fill the holes left behind.
"And with that, our ascendancy is assured," Radiant Springwater declares proudly, "The last finger clasps around Truthseekers' neck. I need only squeeze..."
Observing his boss' slightly maddened eyes, Irikis suppresses the shudder climbing up his spine lest he make a scene and throw away this one chance to make something of himself under the inevitable rule of DDA. Naturally, he would be on the lookout for better opportunities down the road, but with the situation as it stood, the winner to bet on in this whole mess was quite clearly the Darkest Dreamers Alliance.
No single player organisation in the public eye came close to the wealth and influence it held. Not even Truthseekers.
With that in mind - and a lingering grudge - his choice of backing was obvious. Still, Irikis felt that the people around him were taking these in-game matters far more seriously than could be considered reasonable or sane. To say nothing of the random slaughter and looting happening all around the town. It was all rather more intense than he was used to as a relative small-timer.
"Shino," Radiant Springwater curls her finger at one of the others, "Heed."
"Yes, madame," the tall Driktyris bows his head in respectful deference.
"Spread the word. The security has been disabled," she chuckles throatily, "Let the revelry commence, and that mansion burn."
"Yes, madame."
Angelus
Angelus' Room, Voinete Mansion 3F, Meteo Town
Having taken one of the rooms near the back of the confusingly laid out mansion, I was afforded a great amount of solace from the rest of the building, or such was the thought when I was making the rounds a week ago. Or thereabouts. With how much time I've spent in-game of late my sense of time has started to blur and elongate.
My rig is pretty high-end for casual use, so the rigours I underwent during the first few weeks only had a minor effect, but the change in my schedule in light of recent events has meant I've needed to be on the premises at odd hours of the day just to make sure we all have a home to log back in to.
Not that I'm really of much use on my own as a Beacon, but it's not as if I'm alone, and I am at the end of the day the only healer in the guild, so by necessity I'm stretched thin.
"I'd wanted some peace and quiet, but that just sours my mood irreparably," I mutter, squinting through the hazy latticework window of my bedroom.
From here I have a fairly good view of most of the town, owing to both elevation and the window's facing back into the town. A town which has started to once again resemble the aftermath of the Siege not too long ago, smoke rising from buildings and the nigh-indiscernible cacophony of general violence and revelry.
Voinete Mansion has, thus far, not escaped the anarchy unscathed. Burn marks, water damage and broken windows throughout serve as evidence of the dozen or so hitsquads sent to evict us. Thanks largely to the efforts of Olrica and Jupiter, we've dealt with each trespasser handily, but we can't hold out forever.
In an effort to shake off my fouled mood, I eventually decide to head back to the study on the first floor. Might not be able to concentrate very well, but a novel or two might prove sufficient distraction. Failing that, I believe that Grand is present today. He's not the worst company, but neither of us are very talkative, and Grand is even less so without Horizon present, it appears.
My feet carry me on the journey through the halls on a path that is becoming quickly familiar, despite the fact that I do need to focus in order to not get lost by accident due to a lapse in concentration. When I arrive at the top of the main lobby's grand central staircase, I espy Grand talking to a pair of strangers by the door with Jupiter lingering at the bottom step, tapping his staff while leaning on the baluster.
"Jupiter. What's going on?" I question after descending to eye level.
"More door-to-door types," he grumbles, "Windy's checking out that secret passage Olrica found in the basement, so Grand's keeping them busy."
Glancing their way and back, I click my tongue, "You should have come to get me."
"Ehhhh....no offence Ange, but I am not walking all the way to your room and back only for them to have already gotten bored and just left," Jupiter rocks his head from side-to-side to demonstrate his reluctance, "Like, you just had to pick the room that's about as far away from the front door as you could possibly go. I mean, you do you, but it doesn't really encourage visitors or messages since it isn't like I can just send you a pm or anything. Which is really annoying just as a side note that we don't get some sort of like, private guild members only channel or anything. Huge pain in the ass now and it's just gonna tunnel into a cavity later..."
"I get the idea," I sigh, "So, who are they exactly and what do they want?"
"Fancy dude on the left is from Adventurists, the short gal in the middle is from, I wanna say, Master Dragon?" he sucks on his lip, making a squeaking noise, "And the other dude is from something something Orchard. Silver's fanclub."
"Holy Spring Orchard," I clarify. They're friendlier to us than most, so it's unlikely they're here to start trouble. Of course if that was the plan then they would have made a move by now, rather than stand around chatting up Grand. The 'fancy dude' as Jupiter calls him marks my presence with a brief nod before resuming his conversation.
"Uh-huh, that. Not entirely sure what they want, but I heard them mention something about a coalition," Jupiter shrugs, "Either way, nothing's going anywhere fast since Windy isn't around and neither of us have any actual authority. I mean you do, but you ask me it's probably better if you wait on her coming back before you commit to anything since that's kinda her responsibility and all."
"True enough," I accept his oddly serious advice at face value, "All the same, I should still go talk to them. I am an officer, so I ought to try and act like one, if only for the sake of appearances."
"Knock yourself out," Jupiter yawns into his hand, "Or don't, actually? I'll be here in case they start throwing hands. Not like, literally throwing hands like the digit-demons from the siege but like trying to punch you and Grand or something. You know what I mean."
"Sure," I shake my head helplessly, "How long until Win and Olrica return, do you think?"
"Maybe....ten or twenty minutes?" he scratches behind his ear, "Odds are only Windy'll come back though. Think Olrica was wanting to see if it led all the way out of the city. Town. You know, like an escape route for when shit turned south. Which it kinda did at one point so maybe they'll find some skeletons or something down there as well. If there's ghosts and shit it might take longer, I figure. Oh, maybe there'll be a hidden Reminiscence? That'd be pretty cool. Be nice to have our own like, private dungeon. Not the sex kind. Probably. Hopefully."
"Well, we'll just have to find out when they return," I inhale deeply, "Alright. I'll be heading over to rescue Grand from having to mingle, then."
Jupiter gives me a thumbs-up and a goofy smile, "Good luck, Ange."
thank you for the chapter
also the army is about to show up and crack down on DDA isn't it.