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THE DARK TOWER IS RISING — ALERT!

Heroes of Mythopoeia, I am Ra’Agios, principal governor and Celestial Watchman set over the Terrestrial Angle of the West by our Lord and Savior, Leto Betai, God-Emperor of Valanthia. I come to you now with a grave warning, for the winds of change are upon us and all souls with courage will be called upon to do their part.

A Wanderer has pierced the defenses of our Realm, creeping down from the gaps in the darkness of space to drink the sweet nectars of this world. He has settled in the jungles of Shaed, and seeks to build a stronghold there against the wrath of the God-Emperor. While it is my duty as the Celestial Watchman set over the Terrestrial Angle of the West to struggle with the Wanderer directly, Heroes will be called to settle with the minions and cultists who have begun to raise his standard and his tower.

Your time is now.

[JOIN THE FIGHT — Mortal/Celestial Quest Level 1]

Ye have heard the call of Ra’Agios, Celestial Watchman of the Terrestrial Angle of the West. Whether ye be Mortal, Heroic, or Celestial, there is a place for ye in the battle against an Erro. Seek out Servants of the Light for your assignment.

Reward — 100 XP

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“Ye?” Lawlimi asked.

(The quest was issued by Betai. He has a fondness for the archaic. What concerns me is this Wanderer.)

Haggitha realized we weren’t with her and turned back. “You step in something?”

“Got an alert.” Lawlimi was reading the messages over again. “It’s in the party log, check it out.”

Haggitha’s eyes went up and to the left.

(Wanderer is the common name for the Erros, and Erro is an archaic name for demons. They originate from the gaps in the stars and hunker down in the boughs of the World Tree waiting for a chance to slip into Mythopoeia. This never happens. Quests involving Wanderers are more like psychological thrillers, culminating in the ousting of a cult. You never actually see the demon.)

“Oh.” Lawlimi brightened. “This is a Yog-Sothoth situation. Cool.”

(I don’t know what that is, and therefore it is not a part of the Mystic Seasons cosmology. Please explain.)

“Yog-Sothoth, Cthulhu, Lovecraft? Tentacle monsters from outer space sleeping in the ocean for some reason. It’s a whole thing.”

(Interesting. Kulu are a type of giant cephalopod that dwell in the central oceans. There may be an etymological relationship.)

“Okay,” Haggitha said. “I see it, but we’ve already got a god sending us after some wild geese. We don’t need another epic quest chain.”

“It looks like this conflict is the next big thing for the server.” Lawlimi started walking again. “It’ll be around for a while, so we’re not going to miss anything.”

(I apologize. I wasn’t clear. This appears to be the system’s means of coping with the encroachment of a program from outside the server, from “beyond the stars.” The Wanderer is likely Orobos, and I have no idea why he would take this kind of drastic action to influence the game.)

“Way to bury the lead,” Lawlimi said.

Haggitha chuckled. “Maybe he just wants to play.”

On the way to the Dregs, we passed an open market that smelled of salty animal proteins and yeasty refined grain products. I didn’t have a nose, but my skin had olfactory receptors that were very precise, even though I hadn’t been corporeal long enough to really know what smelled like what.

Dokutsu had no problem honing in on protein-rich animal products. Being a port, Aejis had a bounty of seafood to offer, and she went straight for the oysters. Because she had a leash around her neck, that meant Lawlimi went too. It was that or a dislocated shoulder.

“Chi,” Dokutsu informed the proprietor as she snatched up an oyster and plopped it in her mouth, shell and all. Juices slipped over her lips as she crunched.

The merchant was momentarily at a loss.

“How much are they?” Lawlimi asked.

“Five for a lion.”

Lawlimi dug out a coin. He had a bit of change left from our time in Fallow, not enough to pay any fines, but the oysters he could manage.

Shippo tugged shyly at his companion’s leathers, and Lawlimi bought him some as well. Actually, I was experiencing a new feeling myself, which may have approximated being famished, but I was distracted from this novel sensation by the child trying to pick Lawlimi’s pocket.

(Thief in your pants.)

“What?” Lawlimi realized what was going on and tried to grab the boy with the wrong hand, so he ended up bopping him on the shoulder instead, and the kid bolted.

The boy was quick on his feet, which meant he got about five paces before Haggitha caught him by the neck.

“This belong to you?” she asked the merchant.

“Street rats are all over the place. Turn him in to the Watch and they’ll take his hand for what he’s done. Serve him right.” The merchant’s eyes traveled to Lawlimi’s disfigurement and then cut quickly away.

“No one’s chopping off anything. We’ll take him with us.” Lawlimi steered Dokutsu away from the stall so that we were once again moving back down the street. It was a good call—she could have devoured the man’s entire stock without feeling full. For that matter, she could have eaten the entire man and his family as well and still had room for more.

“You want to keep him?” Haggitha held onto the boy, who wriggled like a fish caught on the end of her arm. He was smudged and coppery, missing his front teeth. They hadn’t come in yet.

“He’s just a kid,” Lawlimi said. The street was crowded, so we made our way to an alley between two three-story tenements. In another part of the world, this kind of meeting spot would have been knee-deep in refuse, but Aejis had strict hygiene regulations on top of their draconian opinions about leashes.

“Who are you?” he asked. “If you talk to us, we’ll buy you some food.”

This was the kind of motivation he was looking for.

“Oif. My name’s Oif.”

“Hi, Oif. I’m Lawlimi.”

“I’m Shippo. See? I’ve got two.” Our kitsune demonstrated the congenital oddity of his two tails, but the newcomer didn’t seem to know what to make of it.

“Haggitha,” Lawlimi said, gently taking the child from her, “could you get us all something to eat?”

“That doesn’t seem like a thing I would do.”

“Didn’t you work in a tavern?”

“Touché, mechanoborg.”

“She’s scary,” Oif said when Haggitha had gone.

“She is, but she’s also a friend. Now, can you tell us a little about yourself? Do you have a family or people you stay with?”

“I stay in the Dregs.”

“That’s good, we were actually going there ourselves. We can take you home.”

The child made a protesting noise, looking doubtful.

“It’ll be fine. I’m not mad at you for trying to steal from me. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

>>

(Persuasion: Success)

Honeyed Words 1 — Achievement

Not every situation calls for a sword. With a few well-placed words, you can learn to open doors that a master locksmith would balk at.

(Lawlimi gains 11 XP)

Honeyed Words 2 — 20% Complete

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“Wowzers, look at all that XP,” he said dryly.

(Achievements largely function as a means for Mortal players to advance without resorting to combat. There are Heroic and Celestial achievements as well, but they are rare and difficult to earn.)

“Noted.”

Haggitha returned with a raw fish and an armful of sweet rolls, which were passed about. The fish happened to be for me.

“I helped make you,” she said, “so I’d rather you didn’t starve.”

(Thank you.)

As it turned out, the fish was too much to handle, and rather than have me wrestle with it on his shoulder, Lawlimi set us both down in the alley.

“We’re going to take Oif home,” Lawlimi said. “I think we should see where he lives.”

“That’s fine.” Haggitha bit a roll. “I wouldn’t mind murdering his parents. I haven’t made meat pies in a while.”

The fish was delicious. Having food in my stomach was a new and euphoric sensation. I couldn’t eat it all, but Dokutsu was happy to finish it for me. Sadly, she used her lower mouth, and seeing all those teeth down there was rather off-putting.

“Oh, no,” Haggitha said.

“Cheese and crackers.”

The Dregs took up a sliver of the city against the northern wall that had burned down in a previous generation and never been completely rebuilt. There were no shops here, no artisan shingles, and no Watch Offices. Guards patrolled the outside of the district but rarely ventured within. It was a sordid anomaly in an otherwise immaculate city.

The buildings were mostly wooden rectangles, single-story and large enough for a family to live in if they didn’t require such luxuries as comfort or privacy. Youths like Oif played in the streets and adolescents watched them, though it seemed that they did so less out of concern for the children than boredom and a desire not to be cooped inside their coffin-shaped homes for one second more than necessary. We were casually observed, and more than one of the kids sped away at the sight of us. Oif tried to hide his face, and reluctantly led us to a building that was indistinguishable from its neighbors.

“This is where you live?” Lawlimi asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think your family is home?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Let him loose,” Haggitha said. “He doesn’t know anything important, and I know a few passwords for this place.”

“All right,” Lawlimi said. “It was nice to meet you, Oif.” He placed a coin in the boy’s hand, one of his last, and patted his head. Oif eyed us all warily, backing slowly away, and then bolted inside the house.

(You are aware that he is an AI, not a true consciousness. Your kindness is wasted.)

“I don’t know that it makes a difference.” Lawlimi watched the door shut behind the boy. “I like kids, and apparently, they don’t have to be real for me to like them. Isn’t it weird how human beings can create an entire universe for their own amusement, and that universe is full of poverty and strife? The god of order and light still makes room for ghettos in his cities.”

Haggitha laughed, and we both looked at her.

“What? Poor people are funny.” She sauntered across the filthy street to accost a trio of adolescents that had gathered to observe us.

>>

Rapscallion — Human

Mortal Level 2

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They liked what they saw, the striking woman in a barmaid’s dress approaching them

with an odd smile. But then she was close enough for them to see the scars, and then she was holding a knife that was basically a short sword against the oldest one’s neck.

Shippo chewed his lip, uncomfortable with conflict.

(That is a very direct password.)

“I don’t like this,” Lawlimi said, moving to join Haggitha and the young men. The oldest one very nearly had a beard.

“We need to visit the guild,” Haggitha was saying. “Can one of you boys give us directions?”

“You don’t need to threaten them,” Lawlimi said. “We’re not the Watch. We just need some help finding a friend.”

“Sure,” Haggitha said, pointedly not removing the edge of her blade from the Rapscallion’s skin. “Let’s go with that.”

To his credit, the young man at risk of decapitation was standing up straight, and he looked more fractious than afraid. “We ain’t gonna tell you nothing.”

Haggitha looked at him.

>>

(Intimidation: Success)

>>

His demeanor flicked like a switch. “Okay, okay! I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Can I do that?” Lawlimi wondered.

(I don’t think it would work the same for you.)

The two backup hoodlums fled the scene as soon as their leader broke, disappearing among the ramshackle houses. We didn’t need them.

“You’re an initiate, right?” Haggitha said. “You’ve got a feather?”

The young man nodded against the blade.

“Give it to me.”

The Thieves Guild of Aejis used crow feathers attached to thin silver wire as marks of rank. It was possible to fake them, but the penalty for that involved a knife and someone’s kidneys. As an initiate, the Rapscallion only had one feather and a wisp of silver jabbed through the quill. He handed it over.

“Now tell us how to find the guild.”

The Thieves Guild, like the Unnamed God’s tavern, tended to move around. Unlike the tavern, it wasn’t a physical place so much as an organization that occupied whatever place it happened to be. At the moment, the Thieves Guild was located underground. After leading us to the door, the Rapscallion was allowed to leave.

“Okay,” Lawlimi said, “you got us here. But no more threats, okay?”

Haggitha smirked. “I’ll play it by ear.”

The trapdoor was beneath a section of the structure that hadn’t collapsed, overhung by a scrap of torched floorboard from what had once been the second story. There was a door knocker of twisted metal, which we used. A brass pipe was jutting up from the rubble a few feet away, and it buzzed.

“What’s the password?”

Lawlimi looked at Haggitha, but stabbing wasn’t going to get us through this door. Normally, this was an invite-only institution, but I had observed many prospective members during my tenure as the system help function, and I had heard all the necessary phrases. The key to this door was altered weekly, so you had to stay in the loop if you wanted to be welcomed in. Actually, full members received an alert every time there was a modification to the password, but this was a different ark, so I had no idea where they were in the cycle. Luckily, there was a higher-level password that never changed, because it was only known to leadership. Maybe they would have to change it after this.

(Shibboleth.)

“What?”

(Shibboleth.)

Lawlimi repeated the word after hearing it again, and there was another buzz through the pipe.

“Enter.”

Locks and traps clicked and chirred as they disengaged on the other side of the wooden barrier, and the trapdoor swung upward.

A small woman in dark clothing motioned for us to follow her down a steep stair into a hallway lined with what could only be termed murder holes. Behind those were Guild NPCs with crossbows and poisoned bolts waiting for a reason to use them. Another door at the end of the hall, this one heavy and reinforced with iron, was unlocked by a patterned series of knocks. Then, we were at a party.

The inner sanctum of the guild involved a drop-off into a deep room filled with smokeless lanterns, dancing, music, and alcohol. The woman gestured for us to continue down the wrought iron spiral stair into the sanctum. My superior password had convinced her to believe we were important and therefore to be deferred to rather than chaperoned.

“There.” Haggitha nodded toward the farthest corner of the room, where a kind of cushion throne had been erected and an old man sat amid his fawning courtiers. We had to cross the dance floor, and I saw that many of the dancers were players, some together, some with NPCs. Others were drinking at tables of their own. Most of them were Heroic, but there were also a few mortals out on the town. We were weird, but not weird enough to distract anyone from their own fantasy revelry, with one exception.

Elezzar89, an avatar that somehow managed to look both regal and tawdry, locked his gaze onto Dokutsu and did not look away. We reached the royal corner and were given leave to approach the guildmaster.

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Guildmaster Sharkey — Human (Iztari)

Sphere (??) Level ??

West — Flesh — White

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“Who’s this then? I don’t know your faces. What brings you to my humble abode?” He was gaunt and wild-looking, with oily gray hair down to his back and a beard that splayed in all directions.

“We’re looking for an item,” Lawlimi said, “and thought you would have heard about it.”

“The Rat King hears many things,” Sharkey said, gesturing to a gruesome wall hanging beside his cushion mound. The hanging was really a red cloth backdrop to which actual rats had been sewn, arranged in a wheel around a center where their tails had been worked into a knot. “Why should he share any such information with strangers like you?”

“We’re heroes,” Lawlimi said. “If you have what we need, I’m sure we can find some way to repay you.”

“Maybe, maybe...” Sharkey trailed off, and his head turned as if he was communicating with the rats. “Maybe you tell me what you want to know, and then perhaps, I answer.”

“The item we want is called the Book of Old Names.”

“Oh...well”—the guildmaster spun his hands helplessly—“that’s going to be a problem.”