Seeing a growing crowd of people at his proverbial gates, Eli called out to his familiar, Harley. A moment later, the small winged dog flew out of the temple doors. Since being summoned, the creature spent most of his time in the first floor of the temple, playing with children or pestering the larger flying guardians. No matter where Eli or his bonded familiar went, they shared a connection. To Eli, it felt like their souls were entwined. Small spikes of happiness, hunger, and excitement would flash through the link between them. If anything happened, the other knew about it. At his masters call, the brave creature came running, taking to the skies above the large group of players and NPCs, ready to attack.

Not sensing danger or receiving an alarm from his stronghold menu, Eli pressed on calmly. While walking toward the bridge, he reached out to Aida, having her check his stronghold options. A moment later, she responded that all notifications were set to inform him of an attack. No one had attacked or threatened his stronghold, yet. Knowing this, Eli took his hand off of the pommel of his hand axe, and let a ball of mana dissipate. If there was a path that allowed him to avoid confrontation, he wanted to take it. With each step, he could make out more of what was going on. People were shouting over each other, trying to be heard.

“Let us in! There're monsters in those woods.”

“We’re hungry! It took us days to get here.”

Some of those shouting were NPCs. Refugees from Dawnport, looking for a place to live. Others were NPC’s trying to find comfort and understanding. Their new situation was difficult to understand. Most of them would not understand what was going on, or if there was a way to fix it.

“I heard you guys were building an inn. I’m sick of sleeping outside and I need a drink!” One such player shouted, her voice cutting through the air.

“What’s up with the quests? I heard there were quests.” A young sounding voice called out.

Definitely a player, Eli thought.

“Is that the temple of Aeryntorr, I need to see it. Let me see it, please.” Another player said, her olive skin and greenish-blond hair, peeking through a flowing green and brown robe.

An Aosai? Eli asked himself, What is she doing here?

One voice rang out above all others. “I’m here to see my son. Get out of my way.” It was Eli’s father.

At the man’s words, Eli started pushing through the crowd of citizens, making his way towards the bridge. Several of the newly minted citizens were holding their shoddy weapons, protecting every inch of the landing at the foot of the bridge. The sight made Eli smile. If push came to shove, they would all fight for their new home. As people recognized him, and Harley flying overhead, they moved out of his way. With the path to the front cleared, Eli built himself a platform from roots that blocked the entrance to the island. No one would get past unless they climbed the five foot tall barrier.

Standing atop his new stage, Eli spoke calmly as the crowd died down, “Welcome, to Blight’s end. I see that many of you are tired, hungry and weary. However, we cannot allow people to enter without knowing their intentions.” Looking at his father, the baker, he continued, “Some of you come from Dawnport. I have seen how they are treating people, and would welcome you into our city with open arms. We direly need skilled craftsmen, farmers, bakers, smiths, and those who are willing to work.”

As Eli spoke, his former father shouted, while waving a scroll above his head, “That’s fine. Just let me see my son, Ellius. He was not at his cabin. This note said he would be here.” Making his way to the front, his body pressed against Eli’s small stage, he continued, “I’ll cause no trouble. I just need to know my family is safe. Please, I beg of you.”

Kneeling, Eli reached out a hand, offering it to the man he once called his father, “They are safe. In fact, I have given them land. Take my hand and I’ll let you through.”

Hesitantly, the tall, well built, golden-skinned man took his hand and pulled himself atop the makeshift barricade. “Thank you. Where are they?”

Nodding to Don, Eli waved him through, “Go to the Turta, his name is Don, he can show you. You are safe here.”

At Eli’s display, several people started shouting.

“Why does he get to go through?” One man said, as he pushed himself against the roots of the stage, grabbing at his feet. “We were told this place was safe.”

Looking the man in the eye, Eli shook his head, “This place is safe, for now,” he shouted. “There is currently a barrier in place, keeping people from causing us harm, and preventing monsters from spawning.”

“Then let us in!” A thin human woman shouted from the back of the crowd.

“As I said,” Eli continued, “This place is safe for now. Tomorrow night, the barrier falls.” At his words several heads drooped in resignation, but he continued. He had to be honest with these people, their safety was their own responsibility, “After that, the only thing protecting you is your own strength, and the temple. We have people to help guard the island. Nearly everyone see behind me is armed. But, we cannot guarantee anyone's protection or prosperity. Our food stocks are low, so you will need to hunt, fish, farm, and forage. The same goes for weapons or armor. So you will need to make or purchase your own. What we do have is a safe place to sleep, construction materials, limited funds, a plan for the future, and lots of work for anyone willing. If that is agreeable, then we have a contract for citizenship for you to sign. Everyone, regardless or race, gender, social standing, or income can join our settlement free of charge. All that we ask is that you follow our laws, and help with what needs to be done.” Finding James and Myr in the crowd behind him, he waved them forward, before turning back to the silent crowd, “If you want to join us, and become a citizen of Blight’s End please see one of these two people.” Pointing at Myr, he said, “This is Myr’Chamka, he is our interim mayor and city planner, all those born on Entarra will see him.” After lowering a small section of the platform, he pointed to James, “The mist elf beside me is James. All players should talk to him. We have spaces open in our adventurers guild. I will give those who join jobs and quests. With so much work, you should be able to level up quickly. We cannot offer a lot of coin, or items, but you should be able to grind crafting skills. Tomorrow, there will be monsters and animals spawning in the Wildwood. You are in the perfect location to improve combat skills and gain experience.” With his speech done, he hopped off of the reaming section of roots, letting the spell fade as he landed.

Behind him, the silent crowd stood motionless for a moment, before exploding in a wave towards the wall Myr and James. Both of the men stared at him in agitation, as they struggled to organize people into lines. His friend finished in less than an hour. All nine of the players who refused to join earlier became citizens, along with five others. There had twenty players in their stronghold, most of who ended up speaking with Don to join the guild. After accepting another one hundred and ten NPCs.

Later that day, while searching for his father, Eli learned that a lot of the new citizens were those who left earlier. While traveling back to Dawnport, groups of scouts from the city had attacked the small caravan and taken several people prisoner. Some resisted, and the guardsmen killed them for it. A lot of those taken were children, elderly, and sick. Anyone who could not run away. Among them was a small group of fifteen who snuck out of Dawnport at night. When speaking with Myr, later in the day, he learned that a blacksmith and his family had pledged loyalty, in return for a promise of a workshop.

To Eli’s surprise, the smith was someone he knew, Wayland. The smith had respawned in Dawnport, after Eli killed his undead corpse. When the city declared martial law, and children went missing, both he and Eli’s father formed a plan to leave the city. At first, they went to Eli’s cabin, looking to expand. Finding nothing but a note, they made their way through the Wildwood where they ran into the larger group. Hearing the story, Eli sighed.

He knew that none of his friends or family would recognize him, and it was eating at him. His entire life was being rebuilt around him, except it was no longer his. Everything Eli once loved belonged to a replica of himself. Some immortal NPC avatar that continued on where he left off. Deep down, he knew that none of it was real. Those were not his real children, Kata was not his real wife, and his father was dead. All of them were. Wayland was just a person from a story he wrote, before locking himself in a fairytale. Eli knew there was little he could do to fix the situation, and that knowledge kept his emotions in check. It also did little to repair the damage caused by what happened. The only thing that would help rebuild his life was living it.

Realizing that it was nearly dark, and his day was ending Eli got back to work. His first goal was to find Roscoe and speak with him about adding smuggling to his guilds list of activities. While the thought of a formal government asking a criminal organization for help was amusing, it was also necessary. They needed to trade with Dawnport if they had any chance of earning a stable income as a settlement. It would also put whoever was in charge of the operation in position to earn a hefty sum of coin.

When Eli approached the grizzled dwarf, the man was already shaking his head. He knew what Eli was there to talk about. “I already said no to James. Sorry, but I don’t want to run a smuggling operation. Too messy, too many unknowns, and it gets real dangerous real quick. Especially if the place your smuggling good into finds out.”

“Damn it,” Eli responded, not knowing who else he could trust.

Before Eli could walk away, Roscoe stopped him, “Hey now, don get all bent. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” The words forced Eli to stop and listen. “I can get goods to move and sell. But it will take time, and manpower.”

Interested in where the man was taking the conversation, Eli turned back to face him, “What exactly, do you mean?”

“Well, essentially your problem isn’t getting goods into Dawnport. It’s selling them. Rather the smuggling them, why not get people to come to you? Discount the items in a marketplace here, or at the entrance to our little valley. Then I’ll spread word that we have cheap goods and can offer protection to merchants. Offer free sellers permits to the first ten merchant companies that sign contracts with us.”

“Merchant permits aren’t expensive here. Basically, anyone can sell their goods, as long as they pay taxes. What’s the benefit for them, other than cheap stuff from a new settlement.” Eli responded, questioningly.

“They don’t know that. Most cities only offer a handful of people permits, and at a steep price. Also, permits for non-citizens usually only last a few days, or weeks. Offering free long-term permits, and contracts, is like giving away free gold. It will piss off nearby trading villages, but there's only three nearby, Dawnport, Oceanspray, and Abbotsbane. Oceanspray is a Mist Elf village, they don’t even require permits. So, all you really need to worry about is Abbotsbane, and a city that already hates us.”

After taking a moment to consider the man's words, Eli asked his most important question, “Okay, sounds like a decent plan, and not overtly illegal. But, what’s in it for you?”

“Easy, gold. Lots of it. For every merchant my guild brings in, we get ten percent of all sales. In perpetuity.”

“So, you’re taxing us.” Eli growled, “You’re taxing the city that taxes you?”

“No, you’re paying a commission. It is profits. I will pay my taxes on that, so you’ll get some back, eventually. In exchange you get a legal way to sell goods, without having to leave the city, or send people to look for business. Hell, I’m not even trying to take a commission on the whole operation, just those we bring in?”

After agreeing to the dwarf’s terms, Eli made his way into the temple to find Alyssa and Rou’gar see if she had any ideas on how to plan the settlement. He also needed to build up FP. With no one having access to the altar room except his core group of friends, they were generating a minimal amount of the vital resource. As it stood, they were only generating fifteen FP per day. Where the extra five was coming from, he had no idea.

As Eli was about to enter the temple, the two large double doors swung open. Standing in front of him was Wayland and his father, Eugene. The two were smiling until they saw the owner of the stronghold, then both men stopped to eye Eli from head to toe.

“Sorry,” Eli said, stuttering at the sight of his old friend, and his father.

“Sir,” Wayland said, his voice threatening and low.

Placing his hand on Wayland's shoulder, Eugene bowed his head, “I wanted to thank you for reuniting me with my family. They have agreed to let me build a farmhouse on the land you have gifted them. If that is okay with you, of course.”

“Sure, whatever they want. It’s their land” Eli responded, as his former father tilted his head in confusion. Straightening his back in an attempt to look confident, Eli amended his statement, “It is theirs as long as they remain my wardens, and act as good stewards. Who they allow to live near them is of little concern. As long as they are trustworthy.” He needed to look and act like a leader, especially in front of Wayland. The man’s wife had been attacked by Wolffen, killed and respawned, “I have also heard that you would like to build a forge,” He said, changing his focus to the irritated looking smith. “Is this true?”

“It is.” Wayland said, curtly. “Do you plan on revoking that permission?”

“No, not at all. I was just wondering if you would mind having some help. There are a lot of people looking for work, including adventurers. I’m sure you would have your pick of apprentices. I would also like to ask you to supply tools for our growing city. Kata, and Eillius will help fill, any orders you cannot.” Eli said, before taking a deep breath, calming his nerves, “I will pay of course. Fair market prices. And if you agree to train whoever I send you, I will not charge taxes for six months.”

“What about rents, and a place for my family to sleep?” Wayland said, as the offer of tax free income and extra hands eased his fears.

“We will build the workshop. You will pay rent to us, after the first month. Later, once you’ve saved up, you can either buy the workshop outright, or build your own. The land under it, however, will always belong to us. Unless you move your business off of the island. As for a place to sleep, the first floor of the temple is open, and we will have an inn and tenement building soon.” Noticing Eugene nodding his head in agreement with the offer, Eli extended the same to him, “The same goes to you, sir. If you would like to start a bakery on the island, you are more than welcome. Free rent for a month, tax free for six. All that I ask is a slight discount on weapons, armor, and food used to equip and feed our guards and scouts. Say fifteen percent? You can live here, or on the other side of the river with your family.”

“Ten, and you have a deal.” Eugene barked before his friend could answer.

“Then it’s a deal. Wayland?” Eli said, shaking his father's hand, before extending it to Wayland.

After a moment of hesitation, Wayland nodded, leaving Eli’s hand clutching at air, “Yah, fine. I’ll be yer smith.”

“Good, for plans, resources, and help with construction see Myr, and Eomin. Now, if you don’t mind, I have business in the temple.”

With a smith and baker secured, Eli knew he would need to find a supply for grain and ore. Adding it to the list of things that needed to get done, he entered the temple. Nothing would get done if he couldn’t get the shrine up within the next two days. Seeing Alyssa tending to the sick and wounded on the northwestern wall of the temple, Eli rushed to meet her. The Wolffen woman had a small team of assistants around her, as she moved through rows of cots and simple straw beds. Nearly fifty people laid moaning, a quarter of which were infected with blight and shackled.

As he approached, Alyssa turned to him, “It’s about damn time you showed up.”