“Fuck me running with a pogo stick and a barrel of lube,” LivingDeadGrrl said, after her wendigos had pulled back to a safe distance. “Three years? Three fuckin' years?”

“More or less,” Rich said. “Oops, hang on!”

You are now a level 11 Young Stone Dragon!

CON+30

STR+30

WILL+30

WIS+30

Armor+25

Endurance+25

Mental Fortitude+25

“System doing its thing, huh?” she grinned under her deer-skull mask. “I know that face. I make it often when I take down players.” Then the grin faded. “Well, I used to. Slimmer pickings these days. The Warmers are learning how to fight me off too well.”

“I haven't been following your stream, lately. You've still been after those guys?”

“More like they've been after me,” she snorted. “Griefers gonna grief. A week after you disappeared they came back with Oracles and Bounty Hunters and shit. Wiped out or garrisoned every landmark I could use to respawn. Had to go random for a while, and it took me months to work my way back. Even then I hit trouble all the way through. I finally realized that they were sniping my livestream. Which you're not supposed to do, that's illegal where I come from. But they're from Eascan, so there isn't shit I can do about that.”

She frowned. “I had to move to a different name and stream. Hurt my viewership a lot, but I got word around the fan community after the heat died down. Thank god I'd finished college before things got bad! Never would have passed the Bar exam otherwise.”

“I'm sorry you got dragged into this,” Rich said.

“Dude, they were after my village before you showed up. From what I remember, I dragged you into this. But it's a moot point. Your character really shut down for three years?”

“I think so. I mean... I was going through some stuff back home, and couldn't check before now. But I get the feeling that if I logged in earlier, I would have gotten nothing but 'you are sleeping and cannot wake!' until the timer was up.”

“Maybe,” LivingDeadGrrl said, rubbing her chin where the strap of the mask met it. “Did you ever try sleeping in game before?”

“No. Why?”

“You go out. It's like an actual sleep, complete with dreams. Hang on.” She touched the air. “There, stream's off. I fell asleep in here once, and woke up to find out hours had passed in the real world. Logged out and found I'd pooped the bed, and my dog had chewed all up and down my arms to try and wake me up. So you may have dodged one hell of a bullet there, by not logging in.”

“You think I might've...” Rich felt cold dread start to well up inside him.

“Gotten Snow Whited? Yeah. That's the term the darknet uses to describe people who get long-term sleep cursed in game, or fall unconscious for a long time while playing. There's been rumors floating around for years that people have died or gone into comas because of this game. I always figured they were urban legends, but between my experiences and your stories, now I'm thinking maybe not. I'm thinking maybe... maybe we don't talk about this, especially where anyone who's griefing or hunting us can hear it.” Her eyes widened. “Oh yeah! Just got a wisdom boost!”

“Damn, it's good to see you again,” Rich smiled as best he could.

“You too. You look badass, kid. So... those guys we ran down are yours? They're not with the Warmers?”

“No, why would they be?”

“They came from the direction of the army, and the guy we took down was a pretty good Scout. I assumed they were, too.”

“Were?” Rich glanced toward the cave.

“Oh, they're still alive. I can hear their hearts beating.”

“You can what?”

“Wendigo bullshit.”

“I'm going to need some context, there.”

“What context do you need? I've got the Wendigo job.”

Rich stared at her. Then craned his neck back and stared at the distant, mangy horde.

“It's the adventuring job, not the race job. It... okay, look, those guys are like ghouls. They're undead. I'm the living version. I can make and control those. Sort of.”

“Okay... Wait. You said something about an army.”

“Yeah. Those Warmers? They're on the march.”

“I thought they were on the southern border.”

“Well they might be, but a good chunk of their army is up here. They're trying a flanking maneuver on Upper Derope, going around the Maze and through the Withered Waste, and boom into their northern border.”

“That's insane...” All the strategic sense he had came from real-time online games; he was an amateur at best. But he had seen enough of the region to know that any army that marched in here would come out as popsicles on the other side. If they came out at all.

“Nope. They made an alliance with the snow elves. They have something that protects their main force from the cold. And they've got a lot of players with them, who can game the system. They hang out on the flanks in the cold, build up constitution as they freeze to death, and keep the NPC soldiers from dying when I attack them. And the main army marches on and puts up a camp every night, Roman style. They put just enough work into them to make them landmarks so the PCs can respawn there. And they garrison the camps well enough I can't crack them without losing too many of my minions.”

A thought occurred to Rich. “If they're your minions, how could they attack my people? None of them had their PVP switches on”

“Eh... they're technically not in my party. And my control over them is pretty loose. They're basically walking balls of hungry and hangry that fear me just a bit more than they're controlled by their urges. Like a lot of my ex-boyfriends, I guess.” She laughed, nasally. “Point being they're all expendable, and more of a hammer than a precision instrument, and attacking them doesn't do shit for PVP, nor does me using them to grief. It's a loophole. Might get nerfed at some point, once the god gets around to it.”

Every answer she gave him raised more questions. But he had wheels in motion here, and players to save. “Okay, look. A halfling... ally of mine is sneaking in here. He ought to be showing up in the next ten to fifteen minutes or so. Can you make sure he doesn't die while I go get my guys out of their cave?”

“Woo. Tough call. I mean..” she turned to look at where the wendigos had dragged off the bodies of their fallen comrades, and were chowing down. “They're worked up now and that won't keep them busy for long— you know what, I'd better tend to this personally. Lemme find the guy and see what I can do.”

“Thanks. He's a dick, but I need him alive.”

“Like a lot of my ex-boyfriends.” She laughed again. “Okay, okay,” she said and was gone.

Rich made his way over the cave. It was pretty much just a hole in the ground, a blood-soaked and trampled mass of snow with hard-packed ice underneath, and gritty stone showing in the darkness where the burrowed curve met the surface of the ground. It was at a steep angle, and what looked like bodies lay in a heap at the end of the curve. There was no way in hell he was going to fit in there, and he was starting to get an idea of how the two noobs had held the wendigos off for so long.

“Max? Steve?”

Silence.

“Max? Steve? It's Rich.”

“We're not falling for that one,” came a muffled reply. “We know you can mimic voices. Try again.”

“Use your brains. Did they use your names? Your actual names?” Rich asked.

Another pause. His ears caught some whispered discussion. “What's the color of the boathouse at Waverly?” one of them asked.

“Waverly doesn't have a fucking boathouse. That was a good movie, though.”

Scrambling noises from inside. They poked the spears out first, long, nasty gore-stained harpoons of wood and bone and wires holding the whole things together. Then followed two bloodstained, fur-covered forms, one short and squat and with a beard that reached to the ground, and the other tall and thin and groaning as he unfolded in the open air.

Their names glowed above their heads, red in the light. Had they attacked LivingDeadGrrl at some point?

The dwarf's name showed him to be 'Beardy,” and the elf was “Legalage,” and they took a second to breathe, put down the spears and blinked in the broken sunlight that showed through the falling snow.

Then they stopped stock still, staring at Rich. “Oh shit,” said the dwarf.

“What?” Rich rumbled.

“Who the fuck did you blow to get to be a dragon?”

“I just got lucky. Stupidly lucky,” Rich said, shrugging. “Get on my back. I worked out something with their leader, but those things you've been killing are twitchy. We don't want to test them.”

He took to the air, and started looking around for Cole. He figured LivingDeadGrrl would find him first, but it'd go easier if he was there when she did. Less chance for 'misunderstandings' on both sides.

He didn't find Cole.

What he got was white cloud as the storm intensified, whipping around him, and a furry form zooming straight toward him.

She's betrayed me! Was his first thought.

But before he could act on it, before the guys on his back could do anything but shout, she was past them. And her voice came trailing back. “We got noticed! Run for it!”

Noticed?

Then the snow sizzled away, as for the third time, fire bloomed in that barren patch of wasteland.

But for a change, it wasn't Rich's fire.

The ball hissed toward him and he climbed desperately, getting a boost from the thermals in the split-second before it exploded under him—

“No!” Rich gasped, feeling the heat wash over his belly, but then he was out of it. He had been on the edges.

Still, a glance up showed a fat red '77' floating away from him.

Nothing much to his hit points, but how tough were the guys on his back? A couple of those and the mission would fail.

“Rutger?” A woman's voice drifted through the storm, one he hadn't heard in a long time. “Rutger!” It howled in pure rage. “I will fucking end you, boy!”

“Shit shit shit,” Rich muttered, and whirled, twisting southward to flee...

Only to see 'Beardy' fly off his back and hurtle toward the ground.

Rich snatched him out of the air, body acting before he could think about it.

DEX+1

The dwarf gasped as Rich caught him, and clung to his claws with an iron grip. Good muscles for a noob, Rich thought absently, then gritted his teeth. “Hold on tight!” he yelled back to the elf.

“I'll try!” The last remaining rider called back.

There was noise from behind him, words he didn't quite catch, even with his draconic perception.

The air shimmered in front of him, and he sped up, trying to get through whatever spell it was before it took hold...

And ran straight into the wall of magical force that had materialized before him.

That was what he reconstructed after the fact.

At the moment all he knew was that he'd hit something unyielding and was twisting backward, straight toward the ground.

From the corner of his eye he caught the elf falling past him, flailing desperately, and lashed out with his free hand...

DEX+1

And against the odds, absurdly, managed to grab his second ally before he could splatter on the ground.

But the grab cost him.

Rich plowed into the ground, tumbling and rolling, and barely had the presence of mind to wrap his wings around himself and his cargo, trying to take the hit for the two noobs.

As he rolled he saw a red '153' floating up, with a smaller '32,' and '15' next to it.

That's the damage, he realized. Almost a quarter of his HP, gone.

“Technically it's not even PVP,” the woman continued. “Running yourself into a wall, even if I put it there? Well, that's all on you. Good to see you again, Rutger!”

Boombabe.

One of the four big names of the Bharstool Warmers.

One of the four who had killed his avatar's mother, and griefed his game from the first minutes he'd played onward.

He staggered up, keeping his wings low, over his hands. He squeezed a bit, heard his two noobs squeak, and knew they still lived. “Get out of here,” he whispered. “Get under the snow and play dead. I'll try to draw her off.”

Then Rich raised his voice, looked directly at her... and the insults he'd been planning to hurl died in his throat.

She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered, and as scantily-clad, with a rune covered bikini barely covering her prominent assets. She'd added cloak of red fur that hung open in the front, and the fiery birds that used to orbit her head were now serpents circling her entire body at a distance of a few feet, but aside from that most of her looked unchanged. That wasn't enough to stop him, to stall his tongue.

No, the thing that made him swallow his words was what she wore upon her face.

A rough, ugly copper slab, beaten into shape with one side of it jagged and broken and melted, covered the right side of her face.

Rich knew that mask. He knew it very well. He had dug out his avatar's own eye to keep it from settling over his own face.

“Holy shit,” the words were past his lips before he could stop them. “Do you know what you're wearing?”

“I'd heard you Ministry assholes were big prudes,” she yelled back. “Eyes are up here, scaly. Come and get me!”

It was tempting.

But that shimmer in front of her told him what awaited if he did that. Another invisible wall, and another trip back down to the ground.

Still... killing her wasn't the goal, here. “Go,” he whispered again, then took off, hoping like hell they'd taken his advice.

He hauled up short, wings beating, and let loose. “Burninate!” he roared, using the dragon's tongue to conceal the ridiculous word.

The flames blasted out from him, smacking into the wall and spreading out, licking around, trying to tear through it or surge around it. They did neither, and his breath fizzed out, as he drew in another lungful.

She wasn't even paying attention. She was staring down at the ground he'd come from, he realized. Rich risked a glance back and muffled a curse, as he saw the names of his two noobs there hovering inches above the snow. They'd burrowed all right, but not far enough.

“Well now!” Boombabe said, cracking her knuckles. “I wonder if they're more flamamble than you are!”

“Drop the wall and see,” Rich snarled.

The caster laughed. “Why would I need to do that? Call Fire. Manipulate Fire,” she intoned, and to his horror, Rich saw a mass of writhing, fiery snakes materialize in the air in front of the wall, and start spiraling downward.

“No!” Rich folded his wings and dove, hitting the ground a split second before the snakes, and arching his wings over the two huddled forms who were grabbing dirt for all they were worth.

And from below him, he heard the elf's muffled voice rise up. “Manipulate Fire!”

He turned his neck to look, and saw a few of the snakes curving away. But as he watched, they wobbled and got back on course. Some spattered on his back, and he felt discomfort. Judging by the sensations they weren't damaging him much. But they weren't going away, and they crawled around him, trying to find their way to the more vulnerable noobs below. The notices flickered past his vision, fast and all saying the same thing;

Rich tightened in, tried to tank the hits, but they were starting to burrow under the snow, sending up heightened steam, and his breath hitched in his throat—

Focus. Focus. Think!

Rich did. I have to stop handling this like a dragon would, it's getting me nowhere. I have two other options, here.

And it didn't miss his notice, that Legalage had used one of the skills that Boombabe was using to fry them.

“Hey!” Rich called out. “That fire manipulation, which attribute does it use?”

“Dexterity!” The elf called back.

That seemed like a weird choice for a caster attribute. Up until Rich looked up, and saw Boombabe waving her hands like she was conducting an orchestra.

His inattention cost them. A surge of heat against his neck, vanishing below his torso as flame shaped like a snake burrowed past preceded a yell of pain from Beardy.

No more time to think!

“Curse your dexterity one hundred!” he roared out.

This was the gamble.

The curse could fail. It was against her willpower, and willpower was typically a caster stat in most games he'd played. If it failed, he wouldn't be able to curse her again for a full day.

And on top of that, it cost a full hundred points of fortune to do it at this level.

For a second, the world seemed to pause. For a second, Rich dared to hope. Dared to dream.

But only for a second.

Your Curse failed! Boombabe has resisted the skill.

And she laughed, long and loud as the snakes pulled back, inexplicably. “You Noob! God, this is easy. What did you spend those last few years doing, that you're still so crap level? Jerking off to dragon porn or something, you furry?”

“I don't have fur,” Rich said, risking standing up. He muttered “Status,” under his breath, and found himself a lot less torn up than he'd anticipated. His armor and fire resistance had pretty well soaked the few seconds he'd been vulnerable to the snakes.

Behind him, he heard his two allies scrambling back.

“I'm gonna give you one chance to surrender,” Boombabe called out. “I'll take you back with me, and we'll kill you in a week or so. Until then we won't grief you. You'll be held as a prisoner, that's all. Sound good?”

“Yeah, I don't trust you worth shit,” he shot back. “You shitheads have a long history of being vengeful assholes.”

She pulled a potion from somewhere under her cloak and drank it, eyes not leaving his own gaze. “Last chance. Or I'll knock you out and take you back and it'll all happen anyway, except we won't bother to be nice.”

“Bring it!” He roared, and flew at her again.

At this point Rich knew he was dead, one way or the other. If they tried to take him alive he'd do his damnedest to die in the fight. If they knocked him out he'd eventually kill himself in captivity or they'd kill him anyway, so the point was moot.

No, the best he could do is make a spectacle so his two noobs could get away. Hopefully Cole could do something there, or LivingDeadGrrl.

“Wall of Force! Wall of Force! Wall of Force!” The caster chanted rapid fire, and the air started shimmering all around him. Too late he realized what she was trying, and he swerved, pumped his wings to try and get distance before she could box him in.

Your Fly skill is now level 22!

The words cheered him... up until he slammed into a wall.

His left side, the eyeless one. He'd missed the one she put up there and oh, it had cost him.

Rich expected to plummet to the ground, but no, he landed upon something flat, with no real contours or friction. He drifted with momentum until he fetched up against another wall.

“Gotcha,” Boombabe said, as she wiggled her fingers. “Night night, noober. Manipulate Air.”

The wind ceased. Then it resumed, and he could tell it was blowing away from him. Not in any particular direction, just away.

For a second he didn't realize what she was doing.

Then it got harder to breathe, and he realized exactly what she was doing.

Rich fought to breathe, chased the air, fetched up against the force walls of his cage, and fumbled. His claws found openings, small openings where the air was whistling out, and he plugged them, but to no avail.

He was suffocating.

And a glance up showed that the numbers coming out of his head were yellow.

“Even dragons still have to breathe!” Boombabe called, as the numbers trickled out, and his vision fuzzed.

Rich nodded.

Then he reached up with both sets of claws and ripped his throat open.

“You stupid asshole!” was the last thing he heard, as everything turned black...

Then gray.

RESPAWN IN... 24 HOURS

YOU MAY USE G.O.L.D. TOKENS TO REDUCE THIS TIME.

YOU HAVE THREE G.O.L.D TOKENS LEFT.

He knew this grayness. The chatroom of the dead. Words whispered in his ears, as slain players spoke, and their speech formed into text that floated by, in patterns that you barely had time to read before they faded back into the drab nothing.

Rich felt the adrenaline pounding in his ears. Then he felt nothing. With a sigh, he logged out, to get his head back together.

It was out of his hands now.

RUTGER'S CHARACTER SHEET

Spoiler: Spoiler

Name: Rutger Royal

Age: 3

Jobs:

Cleric (Konol) 5, Cultist (Anjuuta) 10, Young Dragon (Stone) 11

Attributes Pools Defenses

Strength: 370 Constitution: 379 Hit Points: 749 Armor: 215

Intelligence: 76 Wisdom: 120 Sanity: 196 Mental Fortitude: 215

Dexterity: 23 Agility: 57 Stamina: 80 Endurance: 50

Charisma: 69 Willpower: 368 Moxie: 437 Cool: 165

Perception: 304 Luck: 78 Fortune: 381 Fate: 26

General Skills

Brawling – Level 17

Climb – Level 4

Dodge – Level 13

Fly – Level 22

Ride – Level 1

Stealth – Level 5

Swim – Level 2

Stone Dragon Skills

Burninate – Level 20

Chomp – Level 17

Draconic Tongue – Level N/A

Dragonseye – Level 20

Earth Resistance – Level N/A

Flameborn – Level N/A

Hoarder – Level 2

Limited Equipment – Level N/A

No Thumbs – Level N/A

Sandblast – Level 5

Scaly Wings – Level N/A

Slow to Age – Level N/A

Tail Slap – Level 5

Cleric Skills

Blessing – Level N/A

Curative – Level N/A

Faith – Level N/A

Godspell:

Holy Smite – Level 8

Lesser Healing – Level 25

Party Heal – Level 1

Pray to Konol – Level 1

Shield of Divinity – Level 9

Cultist Skills

Conceal Status – Level 10

Curses – Level 10

Dark Chant – Level 18

Darkspell: Fool's Gold – Level 35

Enhance Pain – Level 10

Fevered Zeal – Level 1

First Pact – Level 1

Occult Eye – Level N/A

Servant of Darkness – Level N/A

Transfer Wounds – Level 21

Unhinged Mind – Level N/A

Unlocked Jobs

Conjuror, Fire Elementalist, Grifter, Knight

Gear:

Mirror of Planar Contact, Assorted low-level reagents and crystals, and a dozen bits of golden furnishings and random objects