Post by Arkavius on Feb 22, 2015 23:03:38 GMT
The blush of sunlight permeating thin flesh was his first memory that day. Somewhere in the back of his head, he thought he heard someone say, "Welcome to . . . Arkavius." It was something to that effect, at least. Who said it? He had no clue. All he knew was that it sounded familiar. It was as if he had heard it countless times through dollar-store speakers salvaged from the clearance section of a super market that may or may not have been next to a crate of marked down canned meat that he ate for a week before becoming violently ill and subsequently threw the rest out. Despite gently roasting his cheeks, he made no attempt to squint. He did not shy away from the caress of day, but instead allowed himself to be taken by it. Life-giving rays enveloped him with the warmth of a hundred blankets: none suffocating enough to block the crisp breeze cleansing his lungs. The wind clipped his nose with the unspoiled fragrance of hillsides and greenery. Partially to blame was the cradle of tiny, lush spears beneath his lazy mass. Then again, lush might have not been sufficient enough to describe the sensation. They had the sort of health and vigor that human touch could not reach without cheating god. It was then that he pieced together that there was a good chance he had been relocated in the middle of his sleep. Arkavius opened his eyes and, if the sun hadn't immediately blinded him, he would've confirmed what had been suspected. This was not his one bedroom apartment in gray and soggy London. "Oh god, where am I?" Eyes adjusted to the environment, Arkavius finally observed where he was.
Before him stretched miles of rolling emerald carpets. Above him was an unblemished sky save for the sole object inhabiting it which had been blighting him earlier.
Pleasant as the sights were, it remained that Ark was out of his element. His physiology was one bred from generations of shut-ins. A sickly complexion and mold-ridden lungs such as his were not easily engineered. They were the result of generations of (im)proper selection. For as long as anyone in his family cared to remember, the St. Clairs had been proud Englishmen. Their pastiness and respiration inadequacies were badges of honor. It was proof that they had stayed faithful to their wonderfully dismal homeland despite multiple opportunities to live literally anywhere in the world that couldn't be qualified by the title of a poorly masked piece of fan fiction. Of course, this was entirely Arkavius's interpretation (and bitterness) regarding his lineage. His family clearly felt otherwise or else they would not have taken root. How and why he would never know.
For his inherited frailties, he could not help but panic at the drastic change of scenery. "I need an umbrella," he thought. "All this sunshine and fresh air is starting to give me hives." Trying to make words, he heaved. He tried again: harder breathing. It seemed just as well that we was alone on the grassy hill as anyone watching his attempts to perform the simple act of audible expression might have mistaken him for being impaired. He decided that lying down while maintaining completely still would be a good idea. He could only hope that, when he got up, he no longer felt faint. Either that the world decided to fix itself into the sullen realm he was so accustomed to. Moments passed. Although reality did not correct itself, Arkavius made the positive note that it also had not collapsed on itself. Of all the mediocre things that had happened to him, this was by far one of the most pleasant. His lungs were expanding to sizes he had never known possible. He was acquainting himself with the sky much as an adopted child might reconnect with their biological parents. Above all, it was hard to argue what had been forced onto him was inherently ‘bad’. It was strange, but it wasn't bad.
Satisfied with the current state of the universe, Ark sat up. What he saw was what this unknown world had to offer.
In the distance, he could make out several player-shaped specks of varying colors and shapes. Not one of them seemed like they were right in their head. It was a harsh judgment but, given what they appeared to be wearing, it was a difficult one to deny. What he saw were the vague suggestions of armor and arcane-robe wearing gnats. More curious was that these miniscule figures were glowing. To be specific, they were conjuring fire and fighting monster-shaped specks. "How did I not notice the monsters first?" Arkavius scolded himself. "This clean air must be messing with my head. Ugh, maybe a drink of water will help." He looked from right to left. Only grass, forestry, and the odd hut appeared in view. "Where am I supposed to get some of that around here?" Without prompting, a translucent panel cast in cyan light appeared in front of him. At the top of its structure was text that read 'Search'. It contained a blank white box just underneath with an accompanying, blinking cursor. "Ah hey, that's convenient." Arkavius tapped the blinking cursor and was about to start typing when he realized that there was no keyboard for him to use. "Hmm." He pondered, frozen in a pose he had refined thanks to years of PC use. A more pertinent question came to him moments later.
"Wait a second." He squinted at the window in uncertainty. It too was familiar. He'd seen it countless times before, just never within this context. "I feel like there’s something more important I should be asking, but . . ." he trailed off. Ethereal panels made of light that carried all the functionality of personal computers were not a common, or even possible thing in the world he had known. Still, he couldn’t deny that it felt natural. Still, in being met with a familiar device, Arkavius couldn’t help but feel comforted. This was a new place to be sure, but the motions he was making were undoubtedly something that he had experience with. It wasn’t until his eyes wandered to the top of the option-bearing panel that he realized why. "Arkavius . . . Summoner . . . Level 1." The origin of this information didn't need to be stated. More pertinent than ‘where’ now, was the ‘how’. He clawed through layered submenus in search of answers. Even when complimented with multiple search attempts consisting of, ‘game changed to first person view and also I’m in it,’ nothing useful appeared. True to life, or game, or maybe even life-in-game now, all that he came across were the factoids and tips that pertained to his roles.
Given that he had chosen this build on a whim, they were sure to be helpful. Arkavius had previously executed a variety of measures to become immersed in the game’s culture, but had been met primarily with frustration. When playing a tank, it was rare that other party members would follow up on his engages. On the odd occasion that they did, he was still limited to the simplistic mechanics assigned to his role. When playing high-impact, low-health characters, it was common that the tank had no idea what they were doing. Being the responsible one, he would then take it upon himself to fulfill those obligations. The downfall to this was that he was playing weak characters and so would shortly thereafter die, leaving the party with a significant source of DPS missing. Playing healers was the equivalent of the worst of all worlds with none of the gratification. He once considered abstaining from combat all together in favor of a crafting focus. His conclusion during that run was that it felt like he’d be better off playing Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon.
This was how he wound up picking the one role that held no clear-cut job specification aside from ‘try not to die because you’re basically made of glass’: Summoner. Although they were mages, the variety in familiars and their applications meant a great deal of customization was possible. Additionally, he had never played, or known one. He had no idea what he was doing. Where this might have caused anxiety in a more conventional (rational) player, Arkavius found excitement. Learning something completely new accompanied by useful application triggered every pleasure center in his brain. Trivial as it may have been, the decision to go into a game virtually blind implied adventure: another thing absent from his daily life. It was to be expected of course. This was the age of technology and any frontier accessible enough to be explored had already received appropriate treatment, drained of resources, and then subsequently had a supermarket constructed on its grave. Arkavius shoved the unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind.
"Well, let’s see how this magic thing works." Navigating the menus by way of finger swipes, he located his build-specific spells. It was a small folder. Calling it anemic might have been accurate. To the beginner, however, their potential effects made the list of meager options seem miles long. His index finger hovered over the box that read, "Carbuncle". He swallowed the saliva pooling at the trough of his mouth before clicking it. A new dialogue window carrying the creature’s image appeared. It gave a quick synopsis of its abilities, but to Ark it may as well have been written in gibberish. All that mattered were the incantations it offered.
"Well, it’s a good thing I took mystic languages at uni-COME ON!" He stared at the alien characters in hopes that they would somehow, inexplicably, become readable. They eventually did. He didn’t question how. "From the shapeless realm I conjure thee, Carbuncle!" Obscure geometries made of intersecting energies arranged themselves in a circle just before him. Though he was surely mistaken, it felt as though the immediate world around him dimmed in comparison to the brilliance being conjured. Ark’s instinct was to holler in amazement, but was muted from doing so. As the spell constructed a small mass, he felt his vigor seep outward. It was a sensation he might’ve equated to a rock in his stomach, or maybe sudden vertigo. Thankfully, it only lasted for the duration of the spell’s casting. Once the wind had subsided, all fatigue he had been afflicted by was replaced by the sight of chirping, rust-colored fuzzball with a gem on its forehead.
"It worked!" Arkavius ran straight up to the tiny creature. Despite this being their first encounter, it waited patiently. He wasted no time in scooping up the conjured rodent into his hands. Its large, gleaming pools of black peered unwaveringly into the summoner’s eyes. Its tiny lungs worked at a relaxed pace while it sat in his palms. At no point did it fidget or shy away from him. This was quite the feat considering that the mage had been constantly petting it. He just couldn’t comprehend how soft the creature was. Still, the animal didn’t seem to hate it. "Let’s see, what should we name you.." Arkavius explored the neglected corners of his mind in hopes of finding something suitable for his new friend. He considered name after name before mentally crossing them out each time. "Jelly bean? No, too long. Garnet? Nah, sounds too masculine . . ."
Arkavius tried to think of precious things. Thinking back to the day he had moved into his apartment, he recalled the house warming gifts his parents had given him. They all knew the space he was moving into was a bit on the dreary side and so they had sent him a flower arrangement to help brighten it up. That was always the thing about his parents, Ark thought. In his younger years, he had thought that they simply didn’t have the motivation to improve on their surroundings. He now realized that they actually tried very often. The world had a way of resetting progress, was all. He enjoyed the flowers though they only lasted a week or so. Among them all, he liked the vibrant, red ones that lasted the longest. They were called . . .
"Camellia," Arkavius exclaimed. "Your name is Camellia," he repeated while leaning in close and making perfect eye-contact with his familiar. In response, she purred and nuzzled his face. He chuckled, "glad we have no complaints. Now that that's settled," he trailed off while placing Camellia on his shoulder. She moved only to balance herself, but she appeared plenty comfortable. He turned them about-face, away from the view of endless green before them. Previously hidden behind him, an obstructed vision of trees appeared in front of Arkavius. This place too, like most of the sights he was taking in, was something he was familiar with from previous runs through the early areas of Elder Tale. It was a location of mixed feelings. At once, it inspired a great deal of nostalgia, but also frustration.It was nostalgic because it was one of the first areas he found during his first sessions of play. In those days, the game was still fresh and exciting with the prospect of unknowable wonder just ahead. That said, it was frustrating because on every subsequent visit all he could think of was leaving it as soon as possible.
Of course, the circumstances were different now. This was much less of a routine than it was an experiment. Thus far, his experiences synced up perfectly with the gameplay he expected. That was, other than the manual execution of spells. It seemed that, whether this was a dream or some sort of miracle update, game mechanics had changed significantly as well. This was a world where everything was done by hand. Arkavius remarked to himself that it was really more of an augmented reality than it was a game anymore. With that in mind, he couldn't end his session without first investigating how combat was conducted.
Upon entering the forest, the summoner and familiar duo stumbled onto a group of rats. They were the unexciting type of enemy meant for low-level grinding, but they were good enough to answer his questions. Without trying, however, he immediately began gathering answers. Though Arkavius approached them, the rats were oblivious to his existence. He felt marginally bad for what came next, but then he reminded himself that he was in a game. "Take that!" He unfurled the beginner’s whip that he spawned with and gave one of the rats a lashing. It squealed. It and another rat next to it snarled at the mage. It seemed as though combat had been initiated. "So it looks like aggro works about the same-"
He was interrupted when the injured rat bit his foot before running to safety.
"FFFFFFFFF-" In line with his brow, a familiar panel materialized to quantify the injury dealt to him in the form of missing HP. It was a larger chunk than he expected. "I guess that’s what I get for picking Ritual with a Mage class." He thought to send in his familiar, but before he had the chance, Camellia leapt off his shoulder and mimicked the rat's actions. The carbuncle did not take kindly to its master becoming harmed, it seemed. Arkavius followed up with another whip lash. Though it only took three hits, it was done; the rat exploded into cyan sparks before disappearing completely. Where it fell, however, its kin took up the grudge.
The undamaged rat darted past Camellia and landed teeth-first on Ark’s stomach. Above his health meter, angry bold text reading 'CRITICAL' bled through.
"Ow. OW. OOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW." He frantically tugged at it, but it refused to come loose. Instead of cancelling the damage, the summoner watched his health meter steadily drain with each failed attempt. The familiar acted, chomping down on one of the rat's hind legs just long enough for it to squeal in pain and release its master. It was unfortunate that the damage had already been done. Though the enemy's attack cycle had ended, Arkavius’ name was shaded in sickly green. "Poisoned," he thought, now realizing he had improperly identified the foes in the area. What he had attacked was a normal rat, but the one that had survived was a Dire Rat. One by one, his health bled down, and with it went his consciousness. The sun that he had taken so long adjust to had begun to fade. So too did the image of his new friend's face as he collapsed on the forest ground and waited for what came next. He whimpered. "Well, I guess I was curious about this, too." His last thoughts as his health reached zero was how soft Camellia's fur felt against his cheek as she nuzzled him while he passed.
Without knowledge of how much time had passed in between, Arkavius awoke on the shore of a beach that he was not sure was a beach. It had a shore and ‘ocean’ like one, but he couldn’t be sure that the land was sand or that the water was actually water. For one, the ‘sand’ beneath him had a texture he wasn’t familiar with. Second, the ‘ocean’ in front of him was glowing. Third, it was currently snowing what appeared to be flakes of moving images. Fourth, the Earth was in the sky. Also, the sky was space. "This is new." He sat cross-legged on the beach, looking up at where he assumed he needed to be. There was nothing to do here, so all that was left was to wait. "I mean, I guess I could log out and log back in again to see if it changes anything." He willed forth the menu options. Where there should have been a log out button, there was nothing. "Oh." A sudden flare of light enveloped him until nothing remained. When he regained vision, he was somewhere else again.
As if the universe was feeling particularly bi-polar that day, his new location was completely different from any of the ones he had been to that day. In contrast to the soft grass he had woken up to, now there was a hard, flat slab of concrete beneath him. He was in the same cross-legged position he had been in while on the beach, but it was now drastically less comfortable. The sun had returned, however, as it beamed through a large stained-glass window just behind him. This, along with having re-spawned, was what tipped him off that he was likely in a cathedral. Around him, people talked amongst themselves. Some of them cried, others looked anxious, and some even jumped up and down in triumph. A number of them were received by comrades. Though this was not the case for every player there, Ark noted to himself how nice it seemed to have someone waiting.
Despite having spent an unhealthy amount of hours playing MMO’s, building contacts was a skill he had yet to refine. It seemed so easy, he remarked while lifting himself from the altar. He stressed to himself how there was no pressure to be someone you were not or to impress others; all that mattered was skill and effort. Still, the idea of being emotionally open to others on a constant basis seemed stressful. "Well, now’s as good a time as any, I guess." He moved towards the church’s exit. If the previous content that Elder Tale offered was any indicator, he would have a great deal to occupy him for a great deal of time.
"Better get started."
Word Count: 3,275
Before him stretched miles of rolling emerald carpets. Above him was an unblemished sky save for the sole object inhabiting it which had been blighting him earlier.
Pleasant as the sights were, it remained that Ark was out of his element. His physiology was one bred from generations of shut-ins. A sickly complexion and mold-ridden lungs such as his were not easily engineered. They were the result of generations of (im)proper selection. For as long as anyone in his family cared to remember, the St. Clairs had been proud Englishmen. Their pastiness and respiration inadequacies were badges of honor. It was proof that they had stayed faithful to their wonderfully dismal homeland despite multiple opportunities to live literally anywhere in the world that couldn't be qualified by the title of a poorly masked piece of fan fiction. Of course, this was entirely Arkavius's interpretation (and bitterness) regarding his lineage. His family clearly felt otherwise or else they would not have taken root. How and why he would never know.
For his inherited frailties, he could not help but panic at the drastic change of scenery. "I need an umbrella," he thought. "All this sunshine and fresh air is starting to give me hives." Trying to make words, he heaved. He tried again: harder breathing. It seemed just as well that we was alone on the grassy hill as anyone watching his attempts to perform the simple act of audible expression might have mistaken him for being impaired. He decided that lying down while maintaining completely still would be a good idea. He could only hope that, when he got up, he no longer felt faint. Either that the world decided to fix itself into the sullen realm he was so accustomed to. Moments passed. Although reality did not correct itself, Arkavius made the positive note that it also had not collapsed on itself. Of all the mediocre things that had happened to him, this was by far one of the most pleasant. His lungs were expanding to sizes he had never known possible. He was acquainting himself with the sky much as an adopted child might reconnect with their biological parents. Above all, it was hard to argue what had been forced onto him was inherently ‘bad’. It was strange, but it wasn't bad.
Satisfied with the current state of the universe, Ark sat up. What he saw was what this unknown world had to offer.
In the distance, he could make out several player-shaped specks of varying colors and shapes. Not one of them seemed like they were right in their head. It was a harsh judgment but, given what they appeared to be wearing, it was a difficult one to deny. What he saw were the vague suggestions of armor and arcane-robe wearing gnats. More curious was that these miniscule figures were glowing. To be specific, they were conjuring fire and fighting monster-shaped specks. "How did I not notice the monsters first?" Arkavius scolded himself. "This clean air must be messing with my head. Ugh, maybe a drink of water will help." He looked from right to left. Only grass, forestry, and the odd hut appeared in view. "Where am I supposed to get some of that around here?" Without prompting, a translucent panel cast in cyan light appeared in front of him. At the top of its structure was text that read 'Search'. It contained a blank white box just underneath with an accompanying, blinking cursor. "Ah hey, that's convenient." Arkavius tapped the blinking cursor and was about to start typing when he realized that there was no keyboard for him to use. "Hmm." He pondered, frozen in a pose he had refined thanks to years of PC use. A more pertinent question came to him moments later.
"Wait a second." He squinted at the window in uncertainty. It too was familiar. He'd seen it countless times before, just never within this context. "I feel like there’s something more important I should be asking, but . . ." he trailed off. Ethereal panels made of light that carried all the functionality of personal computers were not a common, or even possible thing in the world he had known. Still, he couldn’t deny that it felt natural. Still, in being met with a familiar device, Arkavius couldn’t help but feel comforted. This was a new place to be sure, but the motions he was making were undoubtedly something that he had experience with. It wasn’t until his eyes wandered to the top of the option-bearing panel that he realized why. "Arkavius . . . Summoner . . . Level 1." The origin of this information didn't need to be stated. More pertinent than ‘where’ now, was the ‘how’. He clawed through layered submenus in search of answers. Even when complimented with multiple search attempts consisting of, ‘game changed to first person view and also I’m in it,’ nothing useful appeared. True to life, or game, or maybe even life-in-game now, all that he came across were the factoids and tips that pertained to his roles.
Given that he had chosen this build on a whim, they were sure to be helpful. Arkavius had previously executed a variety of measures to become immersed in the game’s culture, but had been met primarily with frustration. When playing a tank, it was rare that other party members would follow up on his engages. On the odd occasion that they did, he was still limited to the simplistic mechanics assigned to his role. When playing high-impact, low-health characters, it was common that the tank had no idea what they were doing. Being the responsible one, he would then take it upon himself to fulfill those obligations. The downfall to this was that he was playing weak characters and so would shortly thereafter die, leaving the party with a significant source of DPS missing. Playing healers was the equivalent of the worst of all worlds with none of the gratification. He once considered abstaining from combat all together in favor of a crafting focus. His conclusion during that run was that it felt like he’d be better off playing Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon.
This was how he wound up picking the one role that held no clear-cut job specification aside from ‘try not to die because you’re basically made of glass’: Summoner. Although they were mages, the variety in familiars and their applications meant a great deal of customization was possible. Additionally, he had never played, or known one. He had no idea what he was doing. Where this might have caused anxiety in a more conventional (rational) player, Arkavius found excitement. Learning something completely new accompanied by useful application triggered every pleasure center in his brain. Trivial as it may have been, the decision to go into a game virtually blind implied adventure: another thing absent from his daily life. It was to be expected of course. This was the age of technology and any frontier accessible enough to be explored had already received appropriate treatment, drained of resources, and then subsequently had a supermarket constructed on its grave. Arkavius shoved the unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind.
"Well, let’s see how this magic thing works." Navigating the menus by way of finger swipes, he located his build-specific spells. It was a small folder. Calling it anemic might have been accurate. To the beginner, however, their potential effects made the list of meager options seem miles long. His index finger hovered over the box that read, "Carbuncle". He swallowed the saliva pooling at the trough of his mouth before clicking it. A new dialogue window carrying the creature’s image appeared. It gave a quick synopsis of its abilities, but to Ark it may as well have been written in gibberish. All that mattered were the incantations it offered.
"Well, it’s a good thing I took mystic languages at uni-COME ON!" He stared at the alien characters in hopes that they would somehow, inexplicably, become readable. They eventually did. He didn’t question how. "From the shapeless realm I conjure thee, Carbuncle!" Obscure geometries made of intersecting energies arranged themselves in a circle just before him. Though he was surely mistaken, it felt as though the immediate world around him dimmed in comparison to the brilliance being conjured. Ark’s instinct was to holler in amazement, but was muted from doing so. As the spell constructed a small mass, he felt his vigor seep outward. It was a sensation he might’ve equated to a rock in his stomach, or maybe sudden vertigo. Thankfully, it only lasted for the duration of the spell’s casting. Once the wind had subsided, all fatigue he had been afflicted by was replaced by the sight of chirping, rust-colored fuzzball with a gem on its forehead.
"It worked!" Arkavius ran straight up to the tiny creature. Despite this being their first encounter, it waited patiently. He wasted no time in scooping up the conjured rodent into his hands. Its large, gleaming pools of black peered unwaveringly into the summoner’s eyes. Its tiny lungs worked at a relaxed pace while it sat in his palms. At no point did it fidget or shy away from him. This was quite the feat considering that the mage had been constantly petting it. He just couldn’t comprehend how soft the creature was. Still, the animal didn’t seem to hate it. "Let’s see, what should we name you.." Arkavius explored the neglected corners of his mind in hopes of finding something suitable for his new friend. He considered name after name before mentally crossing them out each time. "Jelly bean? No, too long. Garnet? Nah, sounds too masculine . . ."
Arkavius tried to think of precious things. Thinking back to the day he had moved into his apartment, he recalled the house warming gifts his parents had given him. They all knew the space he was moving into was a bit on the dreary side and so they had sent him a flower arrangement to help brighten it up. That was always the thing about his parents, Ark thought. In his younger years, he had thought that they simply didn’t have the motivation to improve on their surroundings. He now realized that they actually tried very often. The world had a way of resetting progress, was all. He enjoyed the flowers though they only lasted a week or so. Among them all, he liked the vibrant, red ones that lasted the longest. They were called . . .
"Camellia," Arkavius exclaimed. "Your name is Camellia," he repeated while leaning in close and making perfect eye-contact with his familiar. In response, she purred and nuzzled his face. He chuckled, "glad we have no complaints. Now that that's settled," he trailed off while placing Camellia on his shoulder. She moved only to balance herself, but she appeared plenty comfortable. He turned them about-face, away from the view of endless green before them. Previously hidden behind him, an obstructed vision of trees appeared in front of Arkavius. This place too, like most of the sights he was taking in, was something he was familiar with from previous runs through the early areas of Elder Tale. It was a location of mixed feelings. At once, it inspired a great deal of nostalgia, but also frustration.It was nostalgic because it was one of the first areas he found during his first sessions of play. In those days, the game was still fresh and exciting with the prospect of unknowable wonder just ahead. That said, it was frustrating because on every subsequent visit all he could think of was leaving it as soon as possible.
Of course, the circumstances were different now. This was much less of a routine than it was an experiment. Thus far, his experiences synced up perfectly with the gameplay he expected. That was, other than the manual execution of spells. It seemed that, whether this was a dream or some sort of miracle update, game mechanics had changed significantly as well. This was a world where everything was done by hand. Arkavius remarked to himself that it was really more of an augmented reality than it was a game anymore. With that in mind, he couldn't end his session without first investigating how combat was conducted.
Upon entering the forest, the summoner and familiar duo stumbled onto a group of rats. They were the unexciting type of enemy meant for low-level grinding, but they were good enough to answer his questions. Without trying, however, he immediately began gathering answers. Though Arkavius approached them, the rats were oblivious to his existence. He felt marginally bad for what came next, but then he reminded himself that he was in a game. "Take that!" He unfurled the beginner’s whip that he spawned with and gave one of the rats a lashing. It squealed. It and another rat next to it snarled at the mage. It seemed as though combat had been initiated. "So it looks like aggro works about the same-"
He was interrupted when the injured rat bit his foot before running to safety.
"FFFFFFFFF-" In line with his brow, a familiar panel materialized to quantify the injury dealt to him in the form of missing HP. It was a larger chunk than he expected. "I guess that’s what I get for picking Ritual with a Mage class." He thought to send in his familiar, but before he had the chance, Camellia leapt off his shoulder and mimicked the rat's actions. The carbuncle did not take kindly to its master becoming harmed, it seemed. Arkavius followed up with another whip lash. Though it only took three hits, it was done; the rat exploded into cyan sparks before disappearing completely. Where it fell, however, its kin took up the grudge.
The undamaged rat darted past Camellia and landed teeth-first on Ark’s stomach. Above his health meter, angry bold text reading 'CRITICAL' bled through.
"Ow. OW. OOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW." He frantically tugged at it, but it refused to come loose. Instead of cancelling the damage, the summoner watched his health meter steadily drain with each failed attempt. The familiar acted, chomping down on one of the rat's hind legs just long enough for it to squeal in pain and release its master. It was unfortunate that the damage had already been done. Though the enemy's attack cycle had ended, Arkavius’ name was shaded in sickly green. "Poisoned," he thought, now realizing he had improperly identified the foes in the area. What he had attacked was a normal rat, but the one that had survived was a Dire Rat. One by one, his health bled down, and with it went his consciousness. The sun that he had taken so long adjust to had begun to fade. So too did the image of his new friend's face as he collapsed on the forest ground and waited for what came next. He whimpered. "Well, I guess I was curious about this, too." His last thoughts as his health reached zero was how soft Camellia's fur felt against his cheek as she nuzzled him while he passed.
Without knowledge of how much time had passed in between, Arkavius awoke on the shore of a beach that he was not sure was a beach. It had a shore and ‘ocean’ like one, but he couldn’t be sure that the land was sand or that the water was actually water. For one, the ‘sand’ beneath him had a texture he wasn’t familiar with. Second, the ‘ocean’ in front of him was glowing. Third, it was currently snowing what appeared to be flakes of moving images. Fourth, the Earth was in the sky. Also, the sky was space. "This is new." He sat cross-legged on the beach, looking up at where he assumed he needed to be. There was nothing to do here, so all that was left was to wait. "I mean, I guess I could log out and log back in again to see if it changes anything." He willed forth the menu options. Where there should have been a log out button, there was nothing. "Oh." A sudden flare of light enveloped him until nothing remained. When he regained vision, he was somewhere else again.
As if the universe was feeling particularly bi-polar that day, his new location was completely different from any of the ones he had been to that day. In contrast to the soft grass he had woken up to, now there was a hard, flat slab of concrete beneath him. He was in the same cross-legged position he had been in while on the beach, but it was now drastically less comfortable. The sun had returned, however, as it beamed through a large stained-glass window just behind him. This, along with having re-spawned, was what tipped him off that he was likely in a cathedral. Around him, people talked amongst themselves. Some of them cried, others looked anxious, and some even jumped up and down in triumph. A number of them were received by comrades. Though this was not the case for every player there, Ark noted to himself how nice it seemed to have someone waiting.
Despite having spent an unhealthy amount of hours playing MMO’s, building contacts was a skill he had yet to refine. It seemed so easy, he remarked while lifting himself from the altar. He stressed to himself how there was no pressure to be someone you were not or to impress others; all that mattered was skill and effort. Still, the idea of being emotionally open to others on a constant basis seemed stressful. "Well, now’s as good a time as any, I guess." He moved towards the church’s exit. If the previous content that Elder Tale offered was any indicator, he would have a great deal to occupy him for a great deal of time.
"Better get started."
Word Count: 3,275
