An hour after finishing the request to clear the obstruction, Bob and company were back on the surface, turning in their requests at the board. Everyone in the group received a level from the experience bonus for turning in the requests. Bob tossed his new skill point into Power Management, bringing its level to three. The bonus gave him just enough room to be able to deploy two shields and two turrets at the same time, barring any equipment upgrades that increased power consumption.

Bob had gotten another 180 credits for completing the two quests, so now he was looking forward to purchasing upgrades. That notion got Bob to pause for a moment. He was looking forward to spending gold, even if it wasn’t really gold? Well, he was trading an immaterial resource for objects of worth. So, in a way, he was still staying true to his draconic hoarding instincts. It also meshed well with what he knew about humans; their lives were so frightfully short that there was no real purpose to hoarding wealth and not spending it, though some did try that anyways. Only a few of the humanoid races lived much longer than a century, and even then, their lifespans were only a paltry few times longer than their more ephemeral cousins.

“Um, Bob? You still with us?” Buzz asked, breaking Bob out of his contemplation. He’d stopped walking while considering the mortal races’ short lives.

“Hmm? I was just a bit lost in thought.” He rejoined the group as they trooped back to the Player Arrival Area.

The four members of the group turned in their quest, which was a bit odd to watch from the outside. The quest NPC did not appear to actually be doing anything while the players interacted with it.

Having received their next quest, the group headed to the Player Creation Center.

“Man, the names of these places sure are a mouthful,” ShadowRunner complained. “Couldn’t they have come up with something a bit easier to say?”

“I agree, Shadow. Compared to everything else here, those names just feel lazy and uninspired. Really utilitarian, compared to the rather fantastical nature of this world they’ve created,” Buzz mused. “Though I suppose even the best artists can run out of cleverness, at times.”

“Screw it, I’m just going to call them PA and PC from now on. Anything else with a stupid name like that is gonna get the same treatment,” ShadowRunner said.

“Eh, I suppose that works,” FarShot agreed.

“Well, it certainly is more efficient,” Buzz said.

The group fell quiet for a moment after that.

Bob decided to fill the silence by telling them of what he’d seen the previous night. “If you haven’t seen this area at night yet, I suggest you do so at some point. It really becomes quite the sight. When I was handing in quests last night, this area was teeming with NPCs. All the signage lights up, and it is all rather colorful. Rather messy too, but it appears to have been cleaned right up since then. They had these glowing containers that they’d drink from, then toss on the ground when it was empty.”

“Huh, that sounds… neat? I suppose that’d be worth coming to see,” said FarShot.

“Yeah, maybe we can log in after dinner to check it out. Thanks for the suggestion, Bob,” said ShadowRunner.

“No problem, Shadow. I’m kind of curious to explore the rest of this city, as well as others. It really is nothing like I expected. I’d really love to get a closer look at those towers, too.”

“Chunk like city. Chunk want explore too.”

“Okay then. How about you, Buzz?”

“It really does sound great, but my favorite singer is performing at 300 D… my local tavern, tonight. I never miss her performances.”

Chunk snorted, which made Buzz flinch.

“Well, there’s always next time,” said Bob.

When the group reached the crafting building, Bob left them behind to head into the Electromechanical section. He chose a workbench and promptly recycled the drone parts. No repairs were needed, and he was still lacking schemata to build his own devices, for now. A few minutes later, everyone but Buzz had joined him in the room.

Having done what he needed to do for the time being, Bob returned to the entryway, and waited on the others to rejoin him.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with my humble self, Grand Patriarch.” Bloodied Talon bowed low. He had never imagined that he would have an audience with the Grand Patriarch, especially after he had left the clan to work in the world of the Soft Skins. He kept peeking at the glorious, azure-scaled form. Filauos Goramen Infernus was two hundred feet of sinuous muscle, razor sharp claws and fangs the size of a man’s torso.

“Rise, child. I am always available to the Descendants of Scale and Fang. Your gift has pleased me, Bloodied Talon. Not many of your Kin are quite as thoughtful. So, for what purpose have you sought my company?” The Great Dragon Elder’s voice rumbled through Talon’s chest.

It took a few moments for him to reign in his awe at speaking with his living ancestor, the progenitor of his race. “I come seeking information, draconic lore. Your august self is the foremost expert, after all.”

A chuckle rumbled through the room, resonating through Talon’s body. “Hah, you certainly do work with the Soft Skins. None but they have such skills in flattery. Well? Out with it. I may have all the time in the world, but you do not.”

Talon ducked his head. “I come seeking information about a particular dragon. One that I believe may be somewhere in the Soft Skin land of Austland. His name is Kragathor Tenset Malevolous.”

The slight echoes of the Grand Patriarch’s earlier laughter suddenly stilled. Were it physically possible, Talon would have insisted that his sky-blue scales had become a shade lighter. The earlier composure and calm of the ancient reptile had vanished.

“Kragathor… lives?”

“You know who that is? Have you met him?”

“Are you daft? He disappeared millennia ago. They thought he’d finally grown tired of life and crawled in a hole somewhere to end it. He’s…” The Grand Patriarch floundered for words. “There are maybe two bloodlines left that can’t be traced back to him and they live on that icy southern continent. Terrible place to live. You’re certain of the name? Absolutely certain?”

“I… Yes. I am certain. How bad is it, Grand Patriarch?”

The giant blue dragon laughed a bit too hard at this, the sound waves threatening to physically bowl Talon over.

“I don’t know how you got his attention, boy, but you are in over MY head. Ha! How bad is it, indeed!” The dragon patriarch laughed again, only calming a few minutes later. “So how big is he now, do you know?”

Talon swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “More than a half mile.”

The next laughing fit was far more violent, and more akin to a howl than a laugh. Dust rained down from the ceiling of the mountaintop temple. After some time, Filauos regained his composure. “Do you know what the mortals of old called him? Sin Overwhelming. They considered him the overwhelming embodiment of what the mortal religions at the time were parading around as ‘the mortal sins.’ Pride, Wrath, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, and Greed. Abyss, the stories say that when he heard of that, his laughter created the Chasms of Udren. He was the Shadow of Destruction, the Incarnation of Might, the Indolent Tyrant, the Tide of Blood, the Blight of Anfyr, the Downfall of Goraz’thun, the Ender of Nations, the Personification of Genocide, the Crimson End, the Sire of a Thousand Broods, and the Utmost Existence.” As he listed each title his voice rose in timbre and volume and spilled out with ever greater speed. “The sheer number of titles he earned defies memorization. He is THE legend of our kind, the Terror in the Night we threaten our misbehaving whelps with and the pinnacle far beyond what any of us could hope to achieve. None dare speak, much less take his name out of fear of drawing the ire of his shade. And you say he yet lives? You could flee to the moon and still not escape his grasp.”

Talon stared numbly at the floor. He was having trouble processing this rather unsettling turn of events. The Grand Patriarch’s rather passionate extolling of Kragathor’s inviolable power had shaken him to his very core. Until now, Filauos had been the single most powerful entity that he had known. To imagine something beyond that was nigh on unfathomable. Talon had desperately hoped the information was incorrect. To have it confirmed for him so… enthusiastically? It was seriously disheartening.

“I… I thank you for your gift of wisdom, Grand Patriarch.” Talon bowed low.

“Hah! If you don’t die, come back and tell me what happens. Abyss, I’d love to meet the Inferno of Obliteration, if you can arrange it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he managed to reply. He turned and walked away, feeling like a lost hatchling that had strayed too far from the nests and into the forest filled with things ready to gobble him up.