Deeper into Ondell

You run with every ounce of strength you can muster. The others are with you—Jitter right behind you, and Ratty on his heels. You don’t have much of an idea where you’re running to, just a general area and a hope. The path you take leads deeper into the city slums, into territory you’re less familiar with. This part of the city used to be the beating heart of Ondell in a time long ago, or so you were told—once there had been a palace here, a sprawling citadel of fortifications and wonders that served as the crown jewel of the kingdom. Long before you were born, a devastating fire had ravaged this quarter of the city, destroying the palace complex and crippling Ondell; the royal house moved, and with them went any hope of rebuilding. All that was here now were stark ruins and rotting shanty towns—and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of hope that you can hide.

You navigate through the close-packed streets, trying to throw off any possible trail. Jitter begins to falter, but Ratty grabs his hand and practically drags him behind you—finally you see what you’re looking for. The network of storm drains you had called home were a product of the golden age, and here in this section of Ondell they had been expanded into an extensive system of underground tunnels and fortifications in the event of a siege. In the years since, they had collapsed, decayed, and become spawning locations for just about every type of vermin Arkus had. For the players, what that meant was this was a significantly harder area of the city, difficult to navigate and with much less quest potential; it was only good for grinding trash-tier mob drops. For you, what that meant is it’s somewhere you can hide and be reasonably unseen.

Your straining lungs give out just as you find your goal: one of the ancient cisterns looms in front of you, its above-ground structure long having collapsed into itself. This is the primary entrance into the zone.

“This is-s-s where y-y-ou wanted to g-go?” Jitter looks like he’s on the verge of collapsing outright, trembling more than you’ve ever seen, his scrawny chest heaving. Ratty is panting and sweating up a storm; somewhere along the line she must have tripped, as her legs are scraped and bleeding.

“It’s the only…” you pause for several long, ragged breaths, “...the only thing I could think of...”

You wait a few more seconds to gather your wind, and then scramble down the rubble and into the tunnels. Jitter and Ratty look at each other, then follow after you. These tunnels are much deeper and in far worse repair than the ones you called home; there’s no natural light at all, so it’s a good thing for your Cat’s Eye trait. You’ve always wondered if that’s called Cat’s Eyes for other people, but have never wanted to call attention to it.

Eventually, you find a room in reasonably good repair. No obvious collapses, no water leaks, no spiders or other vermin as far as you can tell. “This is it. We’ll stay here for now.” You announce to the others, who look back at you skeptically.

“Milky, are you kidding? What are we going to do, hide down here until we really starve or some Spider Matriarch decides we look like a good enough snack?” Ratty snaps.

“No. Did you read the patch notes the other day?”

They both shake their heads no. You try to muster a grin, although between your exhaustion and your general state of appearance you have to imagine it looks a lot less dashing than you’re trying for. “Well, I did. As far as I can tell, they added these a couple months ago as some sort of thing for players, so if they wanted to build their own little home in the world they could. But they must not have liked that too much, because this update apparently changed them a lot—the patch notes were too vague to tell how. Whatever it is, it means that we can use them now, I guess, so we can claim this room and make ourselves a lair!”

The two stare at you blankly. “...so l-like wha-at we already h-h-had?” Jitter asks, unimpressed, and Ratty nods with him.

The wind goes out of your sails a bit. “...okay, yeah, I think so, but the important part for us is that it changes our spawns to here. So the berserker will have to work harder if she wants to kill us.”

“Fair enough.” Ratty says, nonchalantly. You had really been hoping they would be more excited about this. You thought it was a pretty good idea for one developed hurtling through backstreets and alleyways, at least.

“Uh, alright. Here goes nothing, eh?” You grab the gem and activate it, and....

*DEE-ooo*

Error: Insufficient level to use Claimant Crystal. (Requires Level 3.)

Gods forever damn you and everything you turn your hand to.

“Um, what happened? Was something supposed to change?” Ratty asks.

“...I don’t have a high enough level.” you mutter, glumly. Shoving the crystal back into your pouch, you walk to the far side of the room and half-slump, half-collapse against it out of exhaustion and sheer frustration. How were you going to raise your level? Would you have to fight players again? Last time had only worked out due to wild, unfathomable luck, and in the end it made things a whole lot worse than it had improved them. But what if that was the only way for monsters to get XP? Could you get it from monsters? Your brain is in turmoil.

You don’t notice Ratty and Jitter have crossed the room until they’re right next to you, one on each side. It snaps you out of your panicking, but you were confused. Honestly, you’d half expected them to leave and think of their own plan, since yours didn’t work out.

“It’s fine, Milky. We’ll rest here and you can figure it out after.” Ratty says, an unfamiliar tone in her voice—was she trying to be consoling?

“Can you t-tell one of the s-s-stories again?” Jitter asks, leaning against the wall next to you.

You always can, and Jitter knows that. The Tale-Bearer trait was one of the few things you hold genuine pride in, and you relish every opportunity to retell the stories. You know the tales, they had been taught to you by… you couldn’t remember his name anymore, and realizing that saddens you. He had been one of the oldest ones. He hadn't respawned in a long, long time, but you could never forget the stories he taught you, not even the smallest letter.

You smile slightly, and begin retelling the story you know Jitter likes best, in your practiced tale-bearer voice. “In the time long ago, in the land beyond the sea where there are no storms, there was once a king, and his name was Lajask. He ruled and all obeyed, and where they acclaimed him, none knew the word hunger…”

They fall asleep before you’re even a quarter of the way through the story. At least one job done for now, you follow them into slumber shortly after, and you dream of kings and prosperity.