congratulations, threats, obscure requests and retarded demands:
"How do I become a First Priest?! Greatly appreciated!"
"What’re your staff stats?"
"Congrats! You kicked some ass! Hey, lend me a hundred gold, pay ya back tomorrow."
"Want to join your clan. Druid, level 16. So-so gear, but leveling up fast! Sincerely, Gandiel the Destroyer."
"I’ve lost about 30 gold worth of buffs cuz of you! My bro’s with the Avengers; pay me back or they’ll paint the walls with you!!!"
What a bunch of lame-os...
Oh, where do I get a secretary? Camo? She’s tough and cunning, never speaks of her past. But Spark did not see a threat. The ex-slave was as honest as she could be. Instead of lying, she preferred to say nothing at all. Camo would only shrug and blame everything on someone else's secret, the fifth amendment, and some NDA agreements.
I wouldn’t have tolerated this secrecy from anyone else. We had no use for shady characters. Wanna lie low? No problem; there're tons of clans out there gladly accepting random strangers.
Yet... I kept an eye on the ex-slave. The girl was clearly hiding; never left the Valley, avoided public gatherings, and tried to stay out of sight in general. She’d spend most of her time in the Fourth Wing of the Super Nova, which was the rehabilitation center for former slaves. Everyone there had been deeply traumatized and had all sorts of anxieties and phobias.
Alas, I was wrong.
Camo turned out to be an ordinary level ninety wizard. Pretty good for a slave whom the Chinese looted daily. But far from the hidden race of rogue camo wizards that used to storm the Cats’ castle. A pity... actually, with all the weird stories, the biography gaps, and the failed attempts to pass for an ancient, figuring that girl out wasn’t simple.
Lurch kept a watchful eye on her as well. Orcus was trying to dig up more info. A hound would always be near her, accompanied by a goblin guard. Camo was not easily provoked. She was perplexed as to why she had been given a chain mail. Freezing a bucket of water was beyond her expertise; she specialized in spatial magic.
No, I can’t dump my mail on someone that obscure . I was skeptical that we could outwit a special forces agent from one of the leading clans. Not that they would have ever sent such a weirdo to do such an important job. Their spy would’ve had a crystal-clear backstory, solid as a concrete wall, no gaps. But then, you never know...
I heard a racket outside my door; someone mumbling, a Drow growling, and even the sound of a slap it seemed. The door opened silently. An ear-chopper slipped in. She was carrying a breakfast platter with coffee and toast. The guards had stopped letting servants near leaders, thus depriving them of their tips and gaining quite a few enemies among them.
Every NPC servant had gotten some guard admirers to squeeze for "jewelry money." But the comely ladies had no intention of giving up their sacred cow; the right to cook for the clan leader and hold out their palms for the shiny coins.
The castle staff was slowly coming out of serfdom. They bought their freedom. Durin happily took their gold, but kept complaining that these measly cents wouldn’t even cover a pretty female servant’s yearly salary. She’d become an out of pocket expense...
I had long ceased to follow the logic of things around here, especially after one of the guard orcs submitted a certain request. He was tired, you see. Fifty years of combat, covered with scars; about time to retire. He had asked for a plump lady-friend, a tavern lot, a little loan, and a temporary tax exemption. And the cheat picked the busiest intersection near the castle. Those lots will cost more than the whole of Fifth Avenue in a century!
I had to gulp down my breakfast on the way. Cryl was venting away into the private channel,
"How do I become a First Priest?! Greatly appreciated!"
"What’re your staff stats?"
"Congrats! You kicked some ass! Hey, lend me a hundred gold, pay ya back tomorrow."
"Want to join your clan. Druid, level 16. So-so gear, but leveling up fast! Sincerely, Gandiel the Destroyer."
"I’ve lost about 30 gold worth of buffs cuz of you! My bro’s with the Avengers; pay me back or they’ll paint the walls with you!!!"
What a bunch of lame-os...
Oh, where do I get a secretary? Camo? She’s tough and cunning, never speaks of her past. But Spark did not see a threat. The ex-slave was as honest as she could be. Instead of lying, she preferred to say nothing at all. Camo would only shrug and blame everything on someone else's secret, the fifth amendment, and some NDA agreements.
I wouldn’t have tolerated this secrecy from anyone else. We had no use for shady characters. Wanna lie low? No problem; there're tons of clans out there gladly accepting random strangers.
Yet... I kept an eye on the ex-slave. The girl was clearly hiding; never left the Valley, avoided public gatherings, and tried to stay out of sight in general. She’d spend most of her time in the Fourth Wing of the Super Nova, which was the rehabilitation center for former slaves. Everyone there had been deeply traumatized and had all sorts of anxieties and phobias.
Alas, I was wrong.
Camo turned out to be an ordinary level ninety wizard. Pretty good for a slave whom the Chinese looted daily. But far from the hidden race of rogue camo wizards that used to storm the Cats’ castle. A pity... actually, with all the weird stories, the biography gaps, and the failed attempts to pass for an ancient, figuring that girl out wasn’t simple.
Lurch kept a watchful eye on her as well. Orcus was trying to dig up more info. A hound would always be near her, accompanied by a goblin guard. Camo was not easily provoked. She was perplexed as to why she had been given a chain mail. Freezing a bucket of water was beyond her expertise; she specialized in spatial magic.
No, I can’t dump my mail on someone that obscure . I was skeptical that we could outwit a special forces agent from one of the leading clans. Not that they would have ever sent such a weirdo to do such an important job. Their spy would’ve had a crystal-clear backstory, solid as a concrete wall, no gaps. But then, you never know...
I heard a racket outside my door; someone mumbling, a Drow growling, and even the sound of a slap it seemed. The door opened silently. An ear-chopper slipped in. She was carrying a breakfast platter with coffee and toast. The guards had stopped letting servants near leaders, thus depriving them of their tips and gaining quite a few enemies among them.
Every NPC servant had gotten some guard admirers to squeeze for "jewelry money." But the comely ladies had no intention of giving up their sacred cow; the right to cook for the clan leader and hold out their palms for the shiny coins.
The castle staff was slowly coming out of serfdom. They bought their freedom. Durin happily took their gold, but kept complaining that these measly cents wouldn’t even cover a pretty female servant’s yearly salary. She’d become an out of pocket expense...
I had long ceased to follow the logic of things around here, especially after one of the guard orcs submitted a certain request. He was tired, you see. Fifty years of combat, covered with scars; about time to retire. He had asked for a plump lady-friend, a tavern lot, a little loan, and a temporary tax exemption. And the cheat picked the busiest intersection near the castle. Those lots will cost more than the whole of Fifth Avenue in a century!
I had to gulp down my breakfast on the way. Cryl was venting away into the private channel,
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