I didn’t sleep much and woke up late that afternoon. Porting in, it took me a moment to gain my bairings. I had taken in so much, and I needed to formulate a plan quickly. The raid on the Basilica was tomorrow. I needed to be sharp—and I wasn’t.

I didn’t need to find Sly—he found me. We met at the clinic, but quickly left for the Druidwood grove so we could talk privately.

He looked somber, dejected like something had gone wrong.

“It’s no good, man.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “Plur and I tried to contact the dungeon masters.” They were the shadowy cabal that ran the game. Nobody knew who they were, or where they lived, but they kept the game alive. Dispensing justice harshly for people caught cheating. “But it was no use. They ignored the screenshots Plur took.”

I nodded. I suspected they might. Too many users with their own agendas had tried to exploit them, and they were usually too busy to deal with our complaints. “That’s why I didn’t plan on the image she took. I have a better plan.”

Sly perked up. He was wearing the same gear he always did, his leather assassins gear and a glass dagger slung on his hip. His character had his usual red hair, buzzed into a close cut. I wondered if he might be a redhead in real life.

“Luxon and The Silver Web are going to attempt a secret raid tomorrow night called the Basilica. We’re going to kill him, take his gear, and prove it once and for all.”

I didn't know what I expected from Sly’s response. But I surely didn't expect to get met with laughter. He reeled back and let loose a tirade of deep belly laughs. Doubling over and wiping a tear from his face, he leaned back up. “Yeah, in a million years,” he choked the words out through his laughter, “we could never take Luxon, or his entire guild. It’s hopeless man.”

“No,” I interjected, “we can do it. Between you and me, we can jump him during the raid when he least expects it. He’ll be down between fighting, caught healing back up. We can hit him then.”

Sly didn’t look convinced.

“Between your backstab and my ambush, we might be able to unload more damage than he can handle. And, if he’s weakened and low on mana, we can do it.”

Sly began laughing again. “Even if we did, the rest of the party would tear us apart.”

“That’s the best part!” I began. “We only have to kill him, take his gear, and then we can hazy out.”

“And what’s to stop him from hazying out? Once he’s weak, he’ll just bounce back to Bridgeport. And then he’ll come for us.”

“I thought about that. There’s a wand of stasis in the Hellbog. We just have to get one, and then he can’t cast word of recall.”

“The Hellbog! You mean the boss monster there that drops it? The Dracolich? I doubt we can take Luxon, let alone the Dracolich! It’s hopeless. There’s no way we can handle it just the two of us, and even if we did, our damage isn’t good enough to take down Luxon once we did.”

A slim form materialized from the shadows behind us, and in a perky voice said, “I can help.”

“Plur! How long have you been there?” Sly exclaimed.

“I followed you dimwits from the clinic. You have to tell me what’s going on. You might be as good as me at hiding, but your ability to search sucks. What’s going on, what’s the deal with Surewinter?”

Sly and I shared a sideways glance. She was right about our ability to detect hidden players did suck. The game had normal scores like strength, dexterity, constitution, and intelligence. But the fourth stat was piety. It was a catch-all for charisma and wisdom, and how connected players were to the magical forces than imbued all beings in Abaddon with some element of faint magical power. For mages and clerics, in particular, it meant how quickly they regained their magical mana stores. It also helped detect hidden players, paths, and objects. Plur had more than average for a thief, and it lent her some magical abilities most dexterity classes like Sly and I didn't have.

I let out a deep sigh. I trusted Plur—as much as I trusted Sly. But I didn’t know much about her life. I knew she lived upstate, and she worked with animals. But that was about it. I told her the truth. “Surewinter is dead.”

Plur cocked her head. “Dead? Her character died?”

“No,” I replied. “She was murdered.” My responde was flat.

Plur’s mouth dropped.

Sly stood between us. “Curio thinks it’s someone in The Silver Web.” He shot a look to me. “Specifically, Luxon. He thinks she knew about his hacking, and they killed her to keep their secret.”

Plur began shaking her head in disbelief. “No, that can’t be real. Nobody would do that.”

“Look it up for yourself,” I said. “Her name was Stephanie Watkins. She was found dead two days ago.”

Plur’s character was still. She was most likely searching the internet outside of Abaddon, confirming what we had said.

Sly grabbed my arm. “I’m in for it, man. I’m with you. But I don’t think our chances are very good. I’m as scared of Luxon as I am the undead dragon. We’ve been through some tight spots. But this. This is going to stretch us pretty thin. I don’t think we can do it. I don't know if we can handle all this shit.”

Plur’s character sprung back to life. “I saw the report. It’s awful.” She stood with her finger to her chin inquisitively, considering the very real stakes. “I want to help. Whatever you need.”

I nodded. I was proud of her, as much as I was worried for her.

“First,” I said. “Does anyone know how to get through the Hellbog?” The thick swamp was a maze, and I had never attempted it. Like the item the dragon dropped, the entire Hellbog was under a stasis effect. If we failed, we’d be stuck there, and we’d die. It was a lot to ask. If we deleveled it was doubtful we could take on Luxon at all. So we couldn't fail.

Sly and Plur shook their heads.

“It’s always been too risky for my blood,” began Sly. “I’ve explored parts of the Hellbog. But the penalty of dying without being able to hazy out has always too scary for me.”

Plur snapped her fingers. “I know a guy. He can help us.”

“So you’re in?” I asked. I worried for her. Sly and I could take it, I hoped, but dragging another innocent person into this mess wasn’t fair. A real murder had occured. A tinge of guilt hammered through me like a struck piano string.

“Who?” asked Sly.

“Hanzo. He’s a halfling mage assassin. He’s been through the Hellbog a bunch of times, and I’ve seen him with the stasis wand. He can help give us directions.”

“So that’s the plan, then,” said Sly. “We kill the Dracolich, get the wand, and then ambush Luxon during the raid. Easy enough. And Plur might give us the edge to make sure we do it.”

“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “The raid is in a dungeon called the Basilica. It’s a tower full of angels, I guess. They said it was hard, and you’ll have to sneak in after us. If there are any traps, I won’t be able to message you. I’ll have to go in with them, and they’ll notice if I do.”

“So,” began Plur, “how do expect us to do it?”

“We need to plan this out. I’ll carry the stasis wand. When I freeze him, you guys will have to jump from the shadows and attack him. I’ll ambush him the next round, and with our combined damage, I think we can do it.”

“What about the rest of the guild?" began Sly. "He’ll have those fighters with him. If they get between us, they’ll be able to stop us before we can finish him off. Not to mention Darion, he can heal through any damage we deal.”

“I’ll take care of Darion,” I said. “I think he’s a good person. I’ll try to bring him to our side.”

“And how are you going to do that?” asked Sly.

“I don’t know yet.”

“I messaged Hanzo. He’s on right now, but he’s in Dakharbor. We’ll have to go there to talk with him.”

Sly tipped his head, “Then let’s get to Darkharbor. I have a pathing macro there. You guys can follow me.”

We followed Sly, forming a group, and we automatically followed behind him through the winding roads. We passed through Bridgeport, and I kept my guard up. It was the only way to pass over the Durgas river that split the continent, and I was still worried of PKers.

Darkharbor was across the sea on the upper continent. It was laid out diagonally, making the streets difficult to navigate. Most cities were north and south, but Darkharbor was laid out askew, its exits southwest and northeast. It was a difficult city to get through, so most players avoided it. Hanzo was a top-tier player, so probably had little difficulty. It probably came second nature to him as a professional player. A skill I didn’t possess.

Reaching the Darkharbor clinic, we saw Hanzo. He was sitting in the corner, eating a loaf of bread, resting between grinding the unfamiliar mobs that only he probably knew about. The Darkharbor clinic was small, tucked deep within the shipping town. It was dimly lit, and filled with all manner of fishing equipment and nets. He was beneath the large toothed jawbone of some great sea beast.

He winked at us nonchalantly when we entered. He must be used to players in need of him and the in-game information that only he knew.

“What a ragtag bunch you’ve got there, Plur.” Hanzo took another large bite of his bread. It would help him heal a bit faster. He was obviously in some of his brief downtime. Max level players like him rarely stopped grinding. It was a competition for them to stay at the top, which meant constantly improving their gear.

“We need to know how to get to the Dracolich in Hellbog, and how you beat it,” said Plur.

Hanzo smiled. He was small, coming up only to my waist. He wore ethereal-midnight robes that glistened in the dark like faint starlight. His eyes were almond shaped and inquisitive, and his bulbous ears were twice the size of a full-sized human.

“Well,” began Hanzo, “I’ve never actually beaten it alone. It has some mean attacks that few players can handle. I have to group with a tank. But even a normal tank won’t do—you need a magehunter fighter. Someone who can handle the magical attacks. You guys are hopeless without one.”

Sly shot me a look. “Do you know anybody like that?”

I shook my head.

Hanzo took another big bite of his bread. “If you want,” he mumbled, his mouth full, “I can connect you with the fighter I take with me. He knows the way.”

“That would be great,” I said thankfully.

“But I gotta warn you,” said Hanzo. “He’s not all that consistent.”

Plur lowered her brow. “It’s not him, is it?” She seemed unimpressed with the offer.

A grin appeared across the small mage assassins face. “Yeah,” he said, “it is.”

Plur whiled around, facing me. “We can’t. He’s the biggest dick in the whole game. We’re better off without him.”

“Then enjoy being Dracolich lunch, my dudes. If you don’t have someone who can handle his magical attacks, you’re not going to last a second.” He swallowed deeply and pointed a stubby finger, still holding the loaf of bread, in my direction. “You need him, or it’s not happening.”

“Curio, there’s got to be someone else. We can find another fighter with magic resistance. We just need some time.”

“I don’t have time,” I said. “We have to do it tonight. We need someone now.”

Plur folded her arms, disappointed in my comment, and formed a noticeable frown.

“What you guys need,” said Hanzo, “is Comedian.”

“You can’t be serious!” shot Plur.

“He’s the best magehunter in the game. He can get you there.”

Sly shrugged. “I don’t know who that is.”

Plur stiffened and leaned into Sly. “He’s a griefer and a troll. He’s just as likely to take the wand for himself. It’s not worth it.”

“If he can help us navigate the Hellbog and kill the Dracolich, then it’s our only option,” I said.

Hanzo grinned again. “I’ll let him know you’re looking for him. You’ll have to pay him, obviously. I hope you have the gold.”

I did, I knew it. The gold I earned with Surewinter was sizable, and should cover bribing another player to take us through a raid. I hadn’t spent much outside of crafting my new rapier, and I was sorry to see the rest of it leave so soon, but it had to be done. We needed the wand, it was the only way the plan would work.

“We need the wand. And we need Comedian.”

I had never seen Plur look so disgusted.

“Best of luck, guys,” chuckled Hanzo.

He knew as much as I did—we’d need it.