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Chapter Five

"I'm not sure about Biggiebear" whispered Roka.

The quest was halfway completed, and the cleric had barely needed to cast any heals. The group had been tasked with the extremely important task of protecting the village of Sunpass Haven's supply of apples from an enormous horde of thieving monkeys. The archer had managed, with a combination of his precision bow and the ravenous jaws of his pet grizzly bear, to keep the errant apes at bay, slaughtering the pests by the bucketful.

"WOOT!" bellowed the golem, sending another hail of arrows towards a confused-looking chimp, "I KILL ALL DA MONKEYS!"

"What could you possibly not like about him?" asked Exra.

"I don't know. He just seems a little..." The canine tried to put his finger on it.

The bear quickly charged right past the cleric, rushing with a speed that he would not have thought possible, and descended on one of the naughty monkeys. The savage grizzly, Roka had learned, had its own unique name. It was a class special ability, one which allowed archers like the golem to adopt a variety of animal pets, tame them, use them in battles and even give them a name. The grizzly's name was BigBearButt.

With a blinding flash, a vibrant hue of golden light enveloped the golem. "YES!!" he roared, "LEVEL UP! I RULE!!!" The cleric reasoned that the ape that the golem's pet was chowing down on had given him the last few experience points he had needed to reach level nine.

"I admit," whispered the fire witch, "he is a little... special. But he is the highest level player we have in the guild, apart from you."

Roka nodded. Throughout the last few days, he had made a concerted push to get through as many levels as he could. The last quest that he had undertaken on his own had not been especially challenging, requiring him to carry a letter from the commander of an imperial outpost to a field officer who was standing exactly nine paces away. It had not left him feeling especially epic, but it had been enough to push him up to level eight.

"OMFG!! STUPID MONKEYS!" declared Biggie. Pulled from his thoughts, Roka glanced over and noticed that the golem was charging at full pelt down the path, chasing after an especially mischievous ape that was clutching a pile of misbegotten fruit in its arms. "COME BACK WIV APPULS!!"

"Oh man" grumbled the cleric. "Biggie, wait!" He charged after the rampaging golem, hurrying to keep up before he lost line of sight with his companion. If he could not see him, he knew, he could not heal the archer. He shouldn't specifically need to heal him at all during this event - it was, after all, a beginner-level guild event, designed by the programmers to be completed with a party of only three players of any class. But nevertheless, the worst could still happen if people were not careful.

By the time that he and Exra had caught up with the golem, he had already turned around a sharp corner behind a copse of trees. They hurried around, flanking past the trees, only to find their companion lying flat on his face, an ambush army of roughly thirty-seven cheeky monkeys hopping up and down atop him and pelting him with pieces of rotten fruit.

Several well placed fire spells later and the monkeys had scattered, leaving Roka to ply his healing skills. The barrage of the fruit had left the golem with a 'pelted with rotten fruit' status effect which, despite the cleric's best attempts to dispel it, refused to budge. "You really should stay close to the rest of the group during missions," said the canine, "I can't heal you if you're out of sight."

Biggie rubbed his head, looking around at the charred simian barbeque that surrounded him. He glowed slightly in the wake of the dog's healing light. "THANX ROOK" he replied, "U GUD HEALER!"

Roka felt a little embarrassed, and smiled. He hasn't expected a compliment from the golem. It was surprising, so surprising that he forgot entirely that his colleagues had completely misspelled the cleric's name.

The trio began to pick through the bodies of their enemies, pocketing as much loot as they could find. They had earned, Roka estimated, almost twenty gold pieces. Each of them pocketed six, with the two remaining sliding its way into the guild bank. Roka had barely glanced at the guild bank, the shared space where members of their fellowship could store guild, items and assorted paraphernalia in safekeeping for future use. Gunnar had explained to Roka that general rubbish that they found on the bodies of their slain foes could be turned into relatively useful items by the use of trade skills. The buffalo demonstrated this by telling Roka that, having chosen his skill in armoursmith, Gunnar could craft together fine quality wearable items, so long as they were either plate or chain mail. This was, thought Roka, great for the buffalo, but not so useful for himself or Exra, unless the items were sold for gold. The fire witch, though, had instead chosen to pursue the art of brewing potions, distilling elixirs tha

t the entire guild could drink. This was somewhat less profitable in terms of gold for the guild's bank, but Roka found it more appealing. The cleric had no idea what trade skill Biggie may have chosen, and he was frankly a little afraid to ask.

Roka had settled, after much research and consideration, on Jewellery. He scooped up a pawful of pearls from one of the dead monkey's grip. He had no idea why the monkey had been carrying pearls, even less of an idea why it didn't seem to store them in the same nebulous space that it stored the other items that they dropped upon death, like gold coins or rough monkey bladders (the cleric wondered if they were meant to collect the rough monkey bladders, or if they were simply meant for decoration). But still, he gathered up the pearls, hoping that he would soon have enough to craft a decent item. Ideally, he wanted something that could suit proudly in either the neck slot or the ring slot on his charter sheet, something that would give his stats a nice boost. But, more importantly, something that he had made, himself, rather than having to wrest it from the grip of a dismembered vampire or a charred ape.

At high levels, Jewellery would allow a character to forge gem-encrusted blades or staves. Powerful items like the Crystal Blade of Neverborn, and the Frostbidden Night Staff would be Roka's to create. He may even be able to forge his own mounts, giant steeds made of living crystal, emerald micro-dragons able to fly through the air with a trail of shimmering green in their wake. At the moment, though, all that Roka could manage was a small ring made of coiled copper wire. He looked down at the coiled metal wrapped around his index finger. He still had a long way to go.

He looked over at his friends. Exra had stopped hopping up and down for a moment. The cleric stepped closer, pocketing the rest of his loot. His backpack was burgeoning on full, he would have to return to one of the cities soon and sell some of the items he was carrying. "Ready to continue?" he asked. "The quest log says that the monkey boss, King Baboongo, is just up ahead."

"I KILLED KING MANKEY LAST TIME I WAS HERE. HE IS STUPID BOSS" announced Biggie.

Exra didn't reply for a moment. Then, with a jump, she said "I've just had a private message from Gunnar."

Roka listened. Gunnar hadn't logged in that day.

The cleric wasn't sure why this surprised him. In fact, he was rather startled that he hasn't noticed it in the first place. He thought about it for a moment, and realised that since he had first joined the game, Gunnar had been playing it almost every evening, for at least an hour and a half each day. Roka wondered at that, and then remembered that he had been doing the same.

Pulling up one of the in-game menus, he checked his list of online friends. Sure enough, Gunnar was online now. He hasn't been before they had started the fight with the monkeys, so Roka assumed that he must have slipped online during the conflagration.

The canine checked the menu. "He's in Undertow?" he said, unsurely. He wondered how the buffalo had been able to get all the way out there. It was a city location, and one of several that could only be accessed by trekking through high-level areas or by the safety of airship travel. Use of one of the royal fleet's airships was restricted until the character reached level fifteen though, and Roka didn't think that Gunnar had got that far yet. Probably, he thought, he had asked a higher level character to teleport him to the city.

Undertow was a city that the cleric had only been to once before, earlier that week. A vast, pillared city of rock-hewn buildings that had been cut into the walls of a massive cavern beneath one of the largest mountain ranges in the game, it was the designated home city of the rat people and other subterranean races. Roka had wondered through website explaining it for almost half an hour, viewing screenshots of its lava-lit streets, before deciding that he would rather spend his time in the cat city instead. Or, he thought, better yet, he could visit the dog city, which was reportedly one of the most tranquil.

What, he wondered, would Gunnar be doing in a city which was all but inaccessible for anyone but higher level players?

Exra stared off into the distance for a moment. "He's asking if we can meet him there. He has a friend who is going to summon us there. Anyone care about finishing this instance?"

Roka shook his head. Whatever the buffalo had to say, it would almost certainly be more important than the ravages of mischievous apes.

A text box flickered into existence before the cleric, offering to teleport him to Undertow. He accepted it, and in the blink of an eye he was standing in the dark, grim streets. In the distance, he could hear the resounding aria of blacksmith's hammers as they chimed out a chorus of industry. Without any natural sunlight, the city replied on the bright, shimmering streams of magma from below to cast an incandescent hue. Roka looked around, examining the area. He was standing in a short doorway which looked to have been carved from solid stone. Glancing to one side, he noticed the hanging signpost that signified the building as a tavern. "The golden ale", it was called. Strangely, this seemed appropriate to him - rats, in the game, were essentially the same as most fantasy game's versions of dwarves and if there was anything that dwarves were known for it was both gold and ale.

Blinking into existence beside him, Exra stepped into the tavern, followed by the towering form of Biggie who seemed momentarily almost impossible to fit through the short doorway. The golem ducked his giant head downwards as he entered, in an animation that Roka thought must surely have been specifically programmed to facilitate a happy relationship between golems and doorways.

The tavern was thick with smoke. Several drunken rats lay scattered around the chamber, slumped against the tables or toppled against ale barrels, some still clutching half-finished steins in their paws. Near the bar, a serving girl dispensed beer and flirted with the bawdy customers, while a small group of ferret bards strummed out a thing that, if you were feeling generous, could be described as tuneless but could definitely never be described as music. Near the bar, Gunnar stood, waving to the trio. "Ahoy!" he called.

Jumping up and down, Exra approached the buffalo. "Warriors don't have any summoning spells to summon people" she said, "how did you get us here?"

Gunnar drank from a large pint glass. "Ah, I asked the same person who summoned me to do the same to you. Hope you don't mind, but who could pass up a chance to see my noble homeland, eh?"

Roka glanced around, looking at the spilled alcohol, the blood cooling on the floor from a drunken brawl, and the vomit on the walls. "It's lovely" he replied.

"BUT U SUMMAN US?" asked Biggie. "ARE U A MAGIC BOORF?"

"Actually," said a voice, "I sent you the summons."

Roka glanced around. At first, he was unable to locate the source of the voice. It seemed to emanate from the shadows behind the doorway. As the canine's eyes settled into the darkness, however, he realised that it was not in fact a shadow, but was instead a very tall, very dark figure. The cleric gave a start, not even having noticed the character as he had entered the tavern.

The figure stepped closer, and Roka felt his eyes grow wide. The character was cloaked entirely; head to toe, in black. The robes of a magic wielder hid the figure's face beneath a dark hood. There were thin trims of purple on the edgings of his robe, Roka realised, but it was the darkest shade of purple he had ever seen. Around him, swirls of shadows seemed to spin and churn. The figure clutched a tall, viscous looking staff, one that radiated with a sickly green flame and ended with what appeared to be the skull of some sort of horned animal. Then the cleric caught sight of the paw that clutched the staff, wrapping its thin bony fingers around it. The figure lifted his head, revealing a face that was that of a skull, eyes ablaze with fire and evil. "You ran right past me when you got here" said the figure, "that I didn't get a chance to introduce myself to you puny mortals."

Roka glanced at Gunnar. "He gave you a lift?"

"Aye!" said the buffalo, "What a kind gentleman he is, eh?"

The skeletal figure flexed his deathly grip against his staff, "You are too kind, fleshy creature of mostly foul-tasting meat."

Roka took a glance at the stranger's statistics. He was an undead warlock, he noticed, wearing something called 'robes of eternal night' and carrying an 'oath breaker staff'. He remembered reading somewhere that the warlocks used dark magic, plagues and the power of demons to slay their foes, and that they were one of the hardest classes in the game to play because of simply how demanding it could be to manage their many resources.

Exra nodded to the dark figure, "Thanks for the summons." She turned to Gunnar, "So, you rang?"

He waved his paw, holding a tall pint of ale high. "Aye, indeed, my godly friends. I have been thinking."

"What about?" asked Roka.

Gunnar took a swig. The cleric wondered if the game's ale had any effect on the warrior. "About us" stated Gunnar, "about the guild. About what we need to have in order to succeed."

"WE NEEDZ MOAR GUILDIES!" said Biggie, loudly. "THAT WAY WES GET A GOOD HALL."

The warrior nodded, "Yes, my friend, precisely. But, how to attract people? Nobody wishes to join a guild with only a handful of people, especially when none of us truly know what we are doing."

"But," said Roka, "We're really cool?"

"Aye," said Gunnar, "that we are. But what we really need to do is to get out there and show the world how cool we are!"

"He has a point" stated Exra. "The average guild membership uptake increases by almost eighty per cent following successful completion of large-scale event content. On average, guilds that hold at least four trophies in their display case are able to attract an average of twenty new members per additional trophy won."

"So, that's the plan?" asked Roka. "We try to win some trophies? Which one should we go for?"

"BIGGEST BEAR BUTT!!" shouted the golem, nudging his large grizzly bear pet, and then busting into fits of laughter.

Exra and the dog exchanged glances, confused at the golem's bizarre sense of humour. "I don't think there's a trophy for that" said the fire witch.

Roka tried to think of what he could possibly contribute. "I could make a whole load of rings of copper wire?" he asked.

The rabbit shook her head, "No trophy for that either. Usually one is awarded for things like clearing a raid dungeon, getting a massive winning streak in a PvP arena, or being the first person in the game to do something."

"BIG BEAR BUTT!" repeated the golem, apparently hoping that someone would find it funny if he repeated it.

"Then we should try to do some of those?" asked the Canine.

"How about being the game's first to feast on the flesh of the living?" asked the undead.

Everyone turned to stare at the undead; the atmosphere even more uncontrollably silent than it had been when the golem had spoken.

Finally, Exra said "Okay, so which dungeon are we going to try? Darkfire Pits is quite easy."

"TOMB OF SNAKES! TOMB OF SNAKES! TOMB OF SNAKES!" chanted Biggie.

"I rather like The Butcher's Slaughterhouse Massacre" said the undead.

"Why don't we go back and kill the monkey king?" said Roka, unsurely.

With a resounding thump of his paw, Gunnar said "No! We have to think bigger, my friends. We have to do something that will truly put us on the map. We have to do something that will make everyone amazed, that will make the name of our guild live on throughout the history of the seven kingdoms!"

"What are you thinking?" asked Exra.

"Something that will rocket us to a position as the most recognised, most epic and most elite guild in the game!" came the reply.

Roka felt a little bit worried. There was a glint in his friend's eye, wildness. The buffalo seemed almost frantic. "Shouldn't we actually decide on the name of the guild first?" he asked.

"There's time for that later" said Gunnar. "We want to get the right name, the perfect name. The name that will..."

"Live on forever?" asked Roka, hazarding a guess as to what the warrior was about to say.

Gunnar nodded, "Exactly!"

"DA BIG BEAR BUTTS!!" shouted Biggie.

"So what is your plan?" said Exra, "Come on, enough with the build-up and the suspense, just tell us."

"Alright," said Gunnar, "Alright. Brace yourself, this is my plan. We are going to complete the most difficult dungeon in all the kingdoms of Valeron. We are going to finish the mission that the legendary Warriors of the Moon attempted back in the second age. We are going to purge the worst evil ever known from the face of this world! My friends, we are going to be the first guild to find and kill the secret hidden boss, Abbadon the Scourge!"

A long pause filled the room.

Then, Biggie said "WHO?"