Ember Wind: Starlight City

Uncertainty

The great hall where the council frequently gathered was jammed pack with people, most of whom shared the same uniform; dark mossy green outlined by a paler olive tabard marked with a familiar symbol, a pair of golden wheat stalks around a blue crested shield. At first glance, Creoft didn't think twice about it but as he neared the great hall, he became aware of what was happening, something he always feared would happen. Creoft ran towards the great hall, only to be stopped at the doors by a dozen guards from the German guild: Flügel Der Freiheit.
   
Falcher was back at the Guardian's guild hall, sitting idly on the floor beside Tangurple's bed. He was tired, exhausted, his muscles ached and any movement, no matter how small, made him sore. The guildhall was rather empty, had been since Dailin was lost. Falcher leaned back against the wall and willingly let his eyes wander. One of the first things that caught his attention was the makeshift cross on the other side of the room just beneath the windowsill. The look was different from most, contained an extra piece of wood on top near the head as well as one by the foot of it.
   
The sight of it left Falcher a bit uneasy. It wasn't something he wanted to recall. His stomach rolled but not out of nausea. He forced himself to roll over just to avoid staring at it. He stared out the door into the center hall, listening to the silence that permeated its marble walls. Nothing stirred, they were alone in this mansion. Rather, he was alone. Falcher didn't count Tangurple's unconscious state as being actively present. Again, he was unnerved by something and he rolled the other way, catching a brief glimpse of the cross once more.
   
He couldn't handle it. The silence, the waiting. Something Creoft said kept coming back to him.
   
"Karma. She loved Reztri, both of them were in Tullus' guild but there was some falling out and Reztri ran with her. When the council hunted down and erased Poisoned Oath, she ran and started anew with a vow to erase us. But here are her remains and she's the one that's been erased."
   
Falcher sat himself up and looked over at the sleeping ginger. The young teen was fully disconnected from this reality, stuck in whatever dream world his mind created for him. "Poor kid..." Falcher grumbled. "He won't know what hit him when he wakes up. I just hope he doesn't do the same thing they did..."
   
Feeling fidgety, Falcher stood up and walked out of the room. All he had to do was drop Tangurple off at the guildhall to give him some alone time to recover. The Guildhalls were safe zones from PVP and PVE alike as only guild members could enter them and guild members couldn't kill each other. The gnoll, dressed in a torn and sun faded green shirt and tanned sackcloth pants, ventured down the central stairs quietly. He made his way to the trophy room where a handful of war trophies were collecting dust upon the shelves. Among the items was a maul, the same one Creoft had been using and left leaning against the wall here before he took off for the council meeting. It was the same one Dailin used. Falcher picked it up, the cast iron maul weighed heavy in his arms as he sat it down on one of the shelves and wrote a plaque for it.
   
"Dailin's Maul. In memory of her valiant sacrifice against Poisoned Order. Former Guild Master of GotC"
   
For a brief second, he shed a tear. Falcher rarely considered himself the sentimental type, but Dailin was a friend to him. Perhaps, too close a friend for the situations he and the others always seemed to put themselves through. If it wasn't for Tangurple, he never would've even given the Guardians of the Collapsed a thought. Falcher knew that fact all too well. His own attachment to the kid unsettled him. His heart throbbed with a dulled pain whilst his eyes burned from sleep deprivation. Yet he continued to stare at the small collection of trophies. The whole matter just felt wrong to him.
   
Falcher rushed out of the trophy vault and slammed the door shut behind him. He held his head in his hand and shook it violently as if he was shaking his brain into submission. "I need a break," he mumbled. "I need the Bahamas."
   
Dizziness and exhaustion began to set in, leaving him weak and wobbly. "But before that,  I think a nap is in due order," he mumbled, starting to make his way up the stairs. He quickly tumbled and passed out on the floor of the hall, snoring loudly and obnoxiously.
   
Tangurple stood there, confused, lost. The world around him wasn't familiar. It was dark but not an absolute dark. It was empty and devoid of everything. The air around him flowed like waves in the ocean dragging black ink through the currents. The area was murky, dark and draining. It was a kind of eerie darkness straight out of horror game based in the woods. No light source anywhere in sight yet he could still see the distinct variations in color, the subdued teal and gray mixed, the waves of waterlogged ink, the solid stone ground beneath his bare feet.
   
Tangurple was unarmed, clothed in baggy pants and a torn cloth shirt. It was quiet, not even the sound of distant wind. A kind of quiet that could only be heard in the vacuum of space. It was cold, his breath was frosted over the second it came out of his lungs; an almost deathly cold but not from exposure to the wintry elements. The whole situation felt unnatural to him, even more so than the obvious lack of realism around him.
   
He struggled to speak, his voice was silenced by some unknown force. He felt the ground rumble. He reluctantly gazed into the void of ink and saw the glistening of white fangs and the glow of beady red eyes. Suddenly, a large brown creature flashed past him. Tangurple jumped back and reached for his weapons. To his disappointment, they were not there. He looked to his left where the flash of brown had gone and at the edge of visibility stood a hunched beast. It was still taller than him. Its arms were huge, muscular and long razor sharp claws came from its fingers.
   
Then it turned around, snarling. It showed its fangs in their sizable quantity while it foamed at the mouth. The beast took a heavy step towards him and growled, exerting dominance over Tangurple's unfortunate state.
   
Something was wrong however, Tangurple moved, reacted in a way that went against what he was trying to tell himself to do. He cowered, lowered himself and tried to run. The beast saw this only as a challenge and took to all fours to pursue him. It was only a matter of seconds before Tangurple hit the ground.
   
A dozen sharp objects, like knives, tore at his back sending shockwaves of pain up his spine. The warmth ran down his sides like miniature rivers forming a pool of blood in which he was beginning to bathe in. The creature slashed at him and forced him onto his back. Tangurple stared up in pain and horror at the large wolf-like beast. The white fangs, foam dripping from the mouth, combined with the blood-lust ruby red eyes completed the horrific image. It howled and seconds later, Tangurple saw the insides of its muzzle.
   
Everything went dark, vicious spikes of pain stabbed every inch of his body causing him to flinch and flail around. Then a lowly female voice echoed from the void, "I'm coming..."
   
Tangurple lunged upright in bed, screaming his head off as he twisted and contorted his body from the left over memories of the pain spikes. He thrashed around, clamping his head between his hands and threw himself onto the floor.
   
Seconds later, Falcher came bursting through the door with his rapiers in hand. He rushed over to Tangurple and grabbed his arms. However, Tangurple continued to thrash as if his nightmare wasn't over. Falcher readied his hand and whammed a heavy slap across Tangurple's face. His eyes went wide and in quick retaliation came a slap that knocked Falcher over. The screaming stopped and Tangurple sat there on the floor, confused and terrified.
   
Falcher groaned and sat up, rubbing his cheek. "Damn dude. I didn't think you had that good of a slap."
   
"Wha-? What happened? Where am I?" Tangurple took quick glances around the room. It was familiar to him, unsettling almost.
   
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
   
"No, I mean how did I get here? What about Judas-" Tangurple gasped at the quick realization. "Where's Night?"
   
Falcher sighed. "That's a question for Creoft, bud. You killed Judas, the guy is dead.You collapsed afterwards and I dragged you back here. You were asleep until just a few seconds ago when you started screaming and thrashing."
   
"I couldn't have been in the guildhall... I know I wasn't. I was in some dark place."
   
"You were having a nightmare."
   
"It wasn't a nightmare. It was real, it felt real."
   
"What happened in it?"
   
"I was in some dark place, waves of ink encircled the area around me. It wasn't like a midnight dark but like a very dark grey kind of area. You could see but it still felt like it was dark. Anyways, I was attacked by this wolf thing. I almost want to say it was a werewolf."
   
"Werewolf, eh? Can't say I've had that kind of nightmare before."
   
"Yes, but there was more to it. I got clawed and eaten but just as everything got super painful, I heard a voice. It was calm, reassuring but wrong, very wrong."
   
"How so?"
   
"It told me that it was coming. If horror movies have taught me anything, anyone who says 'I'm coming' is typically a bad thing. Especially when you're in the dark."
   
"I highly doubt anything is coming. It's probably just your mind going ballistic over the lack of sleep."
   
"Something tells me that it isn't that simple. The phrase, that voice, I can still hear it."
   
"Telling someone that you hear voices just implies that you have gone mad, schizophrenic even."
   
"This can't be schizophrenia, it felt too real to be that," Tangurple argued.
   
"If you say so. Do you think this suddenly means something?"
   
"I don't want to be some prophet but yes, I think it's a foreshadow."
   
"Foreshadow of what?"
   
"I don't know, the emergence of werewolves?"
   
Falcher rolled his eyes and laughed, "alright now, Tangurple. Come on, we need to get to the council meeting. Creoft is going to need our voices if he's to convince the council."
   
"Convince the council? Convince them of what?"
   
"Everything."
   
"You're shitting me right?" Creoft complained to one of the german guards. "You won't let me, the damn leader of the council attend his own meeting?"
   
The guard shook his head, "Under orders of Grand Master Storm, there are to be no interruptions."
   
"Grand Master? Who in hell does she think she is?"
   
"A better leader than you," the guard replied.
   
Creoft glared at the chainmail cladded soldier. "Is that so?" He then equipped his bow.
   
A female voice echoed in the hall, ringing with power and determination. At the head of the table, clothed and layered in various shades of green was a young blonde woman with an almost wasp-like personality. "What makes you think that old bastard Cro is coming back?"
   
Hagtard grumpily replied, crossing his arms on his chest. "I know you hate the man for Uskor but he's still our leader. He founded his damn council with Janik."
   
"He is human, humans can fail easily. Cro is the kind of guy who would fail."
   
Hagtard was getting frustrated. The big burly nord slammed his fist down on the table. "Damn it Storm, trust the man! He knows what he is doing. It's not like you willingly helped him anyways. You selfishly think you can just claim the right to head this council simply because you tried to get him killed. Bah! Cro is as stubborn as he is bullheaded. He won't die, he never could."
   
"And you think this because?" Storm taunted.
   
"I don't think, I know. I've known Cro since launch, a lot longer than you have. He just doesn't die."
   
"That would be because he ensures everyone else dies before him. I was on the frontline in Uskor whereas him, Janik and the rest of you nutjobs hid inside the city gates mumbling politics!"
   
"You think we should care?"
   
"I'm not asking you to care, I'm demanding you to see reason and his folly-"
   
Suddenly, the doors were kicked in and standing in the doorway was chainmail clad warrior holding a bow and a torn tabard. "And you thought I was dead?"
   
"Cro!" Hagtard called out. "Damn good to see you alive. Storm here was doubting ya! Tell us you got good news."
   
"I have news, yes."
   
"Oh no... I'm not liking that."
   
"Hah!" Storm chuckled, "I knew something went wrong and look at him. He stands alone. The ginger tank and the gnollish dog are gone."
   
"Actually, they're at the guildhall, resting." Creoft rebuked, strolling in and dropping the torn tabard on the table. "I do apologize about the two guards out there, I tried to only weaken them."
   
"You did what?!" Storm stood up, slamming her hands into the table. "How dare you touch my men!"
   
"And how dare you lock me out of my own council! The guardians may not be the big guild like it was but I'm still in charge of it and according to the rules Janik and I set, the Guardians still run this damn place. Now sit down and shut up."
   
Storm reached for her sword but so did everyone else. Hesitantly, she sat down huffing and crossing her arms in a very angrily manner.
   
"I have something to show you," Creoft said, reaching into his inventory and pulling out the orb. He rolled it onto the table. "This my friends is the great communication rune from the rumors that emerged around Halloween nearly six months ago."
   
Hagtard's jaw hit the floor. "No shit? How does it work?"
   
"I have yet to test it but I suspect it is a one time use item and that this is the only one of its kind."
   
Elvici leaned forward staring at it. "It's looks pretty enough to be a decoration or to make jewelry. You sure it isn't a crafting item?"
   
"Read the flavor text."
   
Elvici reached out to touch it and quickly skimmed the text that appeared. "Where'd you get this?"
   
"This my friends, this is the trophy for beheading Judas... as well as his actual head, thanks to Tangurple's scythe. As leader of the Guardians and Council, I shall use this item to call up my developers and learn what we can about the real world. Perhaps they can shed some light on our imprisonment." Creoft opened the mini-menu for the item and tapped "use".
   
The orb flew out of his hands and hovered above the table. It then gave Creoft another prompt, one with a keypad and a set of text reading: "Enter the phone number of who you wish to call. One time use only"
   
"I was right, one time use." he said, quickly tapping in the number of the Developer Team's office within "Brutal Warrior Entertainment" campus.
   
The orb acted as if it was on speaker mode. It rang for a minute and someone finally answered. In a tired and heavy yawn, a young female voice spoke. "Hello? This is Avery of Bru-"
   
"Avery, I don't got much time. It's Richer." Creoft said very quickly.
  
"Richer?! When did you get out of the game?" she asked in a tone of surprise.
   
"I'm not out, I got an ingame item that lets me make a single phone call. Now don't let this line fail. It's a one time use. Our only chance to share and relay information."
   
"Holy shit." her voice suddenly became distant as she shouted out to other people that weren't around her. "Christian! Frank! Tom! Lilly! I got Richer on the phone! He's alive!"
   
There was a heavy droning noise of a footstep parade. Then a dozen new voices come on over the phone.
   
"Everyone, be quiet for a minute. Listen, I do not know how long this connection will last. I am alive, yes. I found a stable source of protection in here, rather created one. I want to know what's going on out there. Who did this and why?"
   
There was some silence and a couple of muffled conversations. Frank then spoke, "um, well. We still don't know who or why. We only know where: Russia. The source of the attacks came from Western Russia. The company itself is barely afloat right now, the US Government is keeping us alive because as of right now, only we can keep the game from shutting down.
   
"This hacker or hackers created some sort of ransomware program and it locked all of our admin information, shutting us out. I don't know how it got into the system but it did. They left us a friendly note too, mentioning the imminent doom of everyone inside if our servers go offline. Apparently, they also hacked each individual GTX that logged into the game that day. They claim to have remote access to everyone. We lose the servers, this hacker will kill everyone who gets disconnected. The public hates us, Richer. They still think we deliberately did this. We've got police idling outside the complex making sure this place doesn't burn to the ground. I hope things are looking better in there than out here."
   
The council room was dead silent, even Storm was actively listening. Creoft muffled a few curse words. "Thanks for the info but no. We're not in any better shape. Since launch, over two million have died. We have murder guilds popping up left and right and they're killing people because they don't believe that we actually die in here. We only just now killed Judas, the Ashua boss."
   
There was a very heavy sigh. "Only Ashua?" said a younger voice known as Christian.
   
"Unfortunately, yes. We got stuck in Uskor because of the mob spam in the trench. Took us months to get passed it and another month to find Judas. It's been a long haul in here and it's taking a very heavy toll. If you can, get on the news and the inform the world that I am still alive and fighting tooth and nail to get everyone out."
   
"They won't believe us."
   
"Then get them in the room and let me talk to them. Oh and have someone actively recording my body, so everyone knows that we aren't full of shit. Keep this line open and never let it-"
   
Suddenly, there was beeping.