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Chapter Seventeen

"They knew that we were coming" said the buffalo.

Exra looked at Gunnar, uncertainly. "You think they were camping out the dungeon?"

"Can we forget about it for now?" asked Roka, "I really want to just enjoy Ottersmas."

The party walked in a mish-mashed straggle, weaving their way through the busy tents and thronging crowds. The field, usually little more than a place for Old Farmer Teas to grow wheat, had been metamorphosed to celebrate the annual holiday, turning this normally quiet pocket of Valeron into a bustling hive of activity. Zither music filled the air, and splashed of bright multi-coloured light filled their senses.

Sycorax chewed lightly on a piece of bright otter candy bread, a treat that looked almost exactly like a cookie. "So what is Ottersmas meant to be? This games version of Oktoberfest?"

"Basically yes" said Exra.

Gunnar shook his head. "No, no. It has its roots in the old farming tradition. You see, back during the second age, the emperor of the Yang-chi tribe enslaved the ferrets, and..."

"Is that beer?" asked Sycorax, pointing towards a nearby tent.

Gunnar glanced at the tent. Several very drunken lizards lay scattered around it. "Yes, but here in Valeron, 'beer' is called alesmead. Anyway, the otters were enslaved, and..."

Sycorax hurried away towards the beer tent.

Aria finished a bite of her candy floss. It was not actually called candy floss; the game had instead opted for the more fantasy-sounding name of 'magical cloud fluff', which Roka had refused to eat on the grounds that it sounded silly. "You really think they were waiting outside the dungeon for us?" she asked.

Nodding, Gunnar leaned back and looked into the sky. "It's the only way that it'd make sense."

Returning with a large tankard of alesmead, Sycorax pointedly said "One of them must have seen us when we entered the dungeon. Probably told Brakka who summoned the others."

Gunnar grunted in annoyance.

"You shouldn't let it get to you" said Exra. "They're probably just bored kids."

The buffalo sighed. "It does get to me, though" he said. "I care about this guild, it annoys me. Knowing that they ruined a whole evening's work for us, which just bothers me."

Roka sat looking downcast. "They took our gear" he said quietly.

Sycorax finished another glug from his tankard, and gave a light hiccup. "Are we actually safe here? I mean out in this field like this?"

Nodding, Exra stepped to one side to allow a scurrying gang of merry youths dressed in otter-eared hats run past. "All of the game's events are protected, PvP doesn't work inside then. We're as safe as safe can be."

Biggie turned to face the others. "WE GET GEAR BACK FROM EM?" he asked.

Exra shook her head. "Most general items in the backpack can be looted if you die. Gear is a little different. A piece of armour or a weapon needs to be equipped to you, physically worn or carried. After an hour, it will become bound to you, so that nobody can take it."

"They picked us off right after the dungeon" said Gunnar, "they knew that our gear wasn't bound to us yet."

Exra nodded. "Wherever the armour is now, it'll be either bound to one of Brakka's guildmates or sold for gold."

Roka turned to glance back towards the beer tent. A large buffalo in mage's robes ran up to the otter behind the bar, paid for a tankard of alesmead, and hurried away towards the event's rides. Roka had taken a look at the rides earlier, when he had first arrived at the event. Most of them included the chance to win Ottersmas Tokens, a special little ticket that could be exchanged for prizes. He had already won twelve Ottersmas Tokens for simply turning up at the gate, and had a mere thirty more to go if he wanted to earn a ferrer-eared hat with a feather in it. As he watched, the buffalo mage scurried into the Mouseapult, a large trebuchet set up near the rear of the field. The aim of that game, Roka had determined, was to win tickets by landing as close to the target as possible. The target, of course, was all the way across the field.

Aria gave Gunnar a sidelong glance. "Can't we just give them the gold they're after?"

The warrior shook his head. "Pay them to leave us alone?"

The assassin gave her head a shake. "They're attacking us because they want to get their gold back, right? So if we just give them what we stole from them..."

"It's not their gold in the first place" snapped Sycorax.

Roka looked over at the warlock. The undead was always so quiet when discussing Brakka, almost unnaturally so. The cleric was sure that he caught a hint of guilt in the skeleton's words. "No, it's not" added the cleric, reassuringly, "and they're not hunting us for the gold. Brakka's doing it for fun."

There was a loud cry from over towards the Mouseapult as a mage hurled inelegantly through the air, flailing his stubby bovine limbs behind him. The party glanced upwards at the sight for a moment, and then promptly continued their conversation.

"But surely he'll listen to us if we just give him some" tried Aria.

Gunnar retorted, angrily, "I won't pay off a bully. No. Balls to that."

"Besides," said Exra, "we need that gold for the guild house."

The party looked from person to person, with nobody wanting to affinity that she was right. The house had, over the course of time, grown to comfortably accommodate the inhabitants, swelling from a single-room bachelor's pad to a size of a rustic cabin. The main hall now boasted a large table, with enough seating for all. In addition, Sycorax had paid some additional gold to buy an additional room, an alchemy chamber, which occupied the west wing of the house. He shared this facility with Exra, while the others continued to save up for further rooms. Between them all, with their amassed wealth they could very nearly afford a library, but there was still some way to go before they would have enough to finalise the purchase.

Roka looked down. "Look," said the cleric, "maybe it'd be better to forget this whole thing and enjoy the event?"

Biggie nodded. "GOOD PLAN! EXRA U WANNA GO PLAY FERRET BOWLING?"

With a sense of relief, the fire witch nodded. Quickly she hurried over towards Biggie, and together the two wove their way through the colourfully assorted tents and stalls.

Watching the two go, Gunnar added "I'm sorry. I'm ruining the mood."

"It's not your fault" said Roka, "we're all just annoyed about it."

Grudgingly, the buffalo nodded. "It just gets to me. I know that it shouldn't, but it does."

"You need to relax" said the canine, as a band of merry infants (or possibly very tall otters) ran past them, spraying one another with buckets of multi-coloured water. "You're not responsible for fixing all of our problems. Look, why don't we all go and play a few rounds of the Coconuts game?" he offered, pointing out a small tent but far from the crowd. Several otters lay scattered around the tent, bleeding and concussed from heavily-thrown hard fruits. "How many more tickets do you need to get the holiday mount?"

Gunnar glanced down at his pockets. "Fifty-two thousand, nine hundred and seven. Can't help but think that whoever designed it doesn't really want us to be able to obtain it." He looked around, "And frankly I don't really want it."

Roka nodded. He understood. The holiday mount was certainly something special, intended to maintain the season of Ottersmas all year round. For this reason it was extremely difficult to obtain by any but the most dedicated, most obsessive fans. The fact that it was not quite a mount, but in fact a trio of rather ugly otters that carried the rider around on their backs like a royal chariot, also contributed towards making it a rather unpopular choice.

The warlock stepped out of the way to avoid the children. "Have you noticed that those two are starting to spend a lot of time together?" he asked.

The buffalo looked over, "Huh?"

"Exra and Biggie" said Sycorax. "Think there's something going on between them?"

The buffalo turned, looking off into the crowd of peoples of various races, shapes and sizes. "Nah" he said, "we all spend a lot of time together" he said, his voice still ringing with sadness and self-pity.

"But those two" said the warlock, "they quest together more and more often, don't you think?"

"So what, you think they're off on a date now?" interjected Roka.

Spreading his paws wide, Sycorax said "Would it surprise you if they were?"

* * *

By the time that the rock golem and his friend arrived at the bowling pavilion, it was busy. This part of the field had been cordoned off, arrayed into several lanes all fit for bowling matches. Several stray players had wandered around into the lanes, stumbling mutely in bewildered circles, while several groups of dedicated players took their places at the head of the lanes.

Biggie looked down towards Exra, and she smiled. Standing side by side, the height difference between them seemed enormous, making Exra look no more than a child standing beside a giant, or a ferret standing beside a perfectly normal sized Cat. "DID THAT HAVE THIS GAME IN BETA?" asked the rock golem.

Shaking her head, Exra paid the man running the stall a pawful of gold coins. "No" she said as the man reached into a large wooden barrel that rested beside him and recovered a squirming rat. While the man proceeded to wrap the rat's limbs up, fastening each flapping appendage with several thick cords of rope, Exra continued. "We had a few test events, but not with any of the games like this one."

"ITS SILLY" said Biggie decisively as the man handed the small, perfectly bound rat to the fire witch. She took it, rolling the rat around between her paws. "I MEAN HOW DO RATS ROLL?"

Taking a step towards the lane, Exra said calmly "Like this." She moved quickly, curling the rat into an underhand throw, and propelling the gibbering creature down the lane. It flashed by in a blur of green, bouncing this way and that with a variety of squeaks, before it eventually clattered into a carefully arranged selection of miniature wooden trolls that lay at the far end. The man running the stall gave an animated cheer and offered over twelve tickets to the fire witch. Dusting her paws together with strong, energetic clasps, Exra turned back towards her companion. "Do you want your turn, or do you want to forfeit right away?"

Biggie snorted, "I AM CHAMPION AT THIS" he declared, and stepped over to receive his own tightly-rolled rat ball. "BUT WHAT THIS HAVE 2 DO WIV OTTURS?" he asked uncertainly.

Leaning her head back, Exra hummed. "No idea. Just seems to be another one of the many running themes of wholesale rat abuse, I expect."

Biggie took the ball, which wailed indignantly. "THE DEVS HAVE WARPED MINDS" he said decisively as he stepped up to take his shot. He hurled the rat, spinning it through the air with far too much force. The squawking ball bounced off the lane to the right, smashed into a tent pole, and entirely missed the little wooden trolls as it vanished into the forest opposite.

A voice called out from behind them, "Good shot, losers!"

Exra turned to glance behind them, and immediately regretted it. She knew the figure behind them, dressed as he was in dark plate armour. The man's vast frost sword hung strapped to his back. It was the last person that Exra wanted to see today. But something about Brakka looked different, and it took a moment for the fire witch to figure it out. She looked over him, stifling the feeling of distaste as she did so. Then she realised just what it was about the frost knight that was different. Brakka was sitting upon a plush cushion that was born aloft by three rather unhappy-looking otters. Oh great, she thought, he got the holiday mount.

Biggie took one look at the frost knight and reached for his weapon. The moment that the rock golem did so, a series of large bold letters appeared, floating above everyone's heads in bright and very serious red, reading 'PvP Disabled'. Brakka smirked, tutted chidingly, and wagged his finger at the hunter. "Now now, behave. You're in a social situation here."

"What do you want?" asked Exra, impatiently.

The frost knight flexed his arms into an exaggerated shrug. "Why, nothing. Can't I enjoy the fair?"

She pursed her lips, glowering at Brakka. "I doubt that you could enjoy anything without trolling people."

Smirking mockingly, the frost knight leaned back, the small little ferrets beneath him struggling to accommodate the shift in weight. "You say such hurtful things" he replied, mockingly.

"JUST GO AWAY" stated Biggie, annoyed, "CLIMB ON UR OTTURS AN GO BOTHER SOME1 ELSE."

"On my otters?" asked Brakka. He glanced around, theatrically, and then turned his face down to look towards his mount. "Oh, you mean these chaps? Why, are you feeling a little inadequate?"

"ITS A STUPID MOUNT" said Biggie, "AN U LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT ON IT."

Exra gave Biggie a cautious look, "Don't rise to him."

But the frost knight, with a wide grin on his face, replied "Don't worry, rabbit girl. But to answer your friend's question, it doesn't matter how the mount looks. What matters is what it represents."

"And what is that supposed to be?" she asked, growing tired of the man's condescension.

"That I'm better than you" he replied.

"You really think that, don't you?" said a deep buffalo tone. Exra turned to see Gunnar stepping closer, with the other four guild members closely behind him. The Buffalo stepped over to the stall, faced Brakka, and folded his arms. "You really think you're better than everyone else."

"Not everyone else" grinned Brakka in return, "Just better than you."

"AN BEIN CARRIED BY 3 UGLY OTTS PROVES THAT?" retorted Biggie.

"Yes it does, my ineloquent friend" smirked the frost knight. "Think about it. This mount represents a level of dedication to the game that none of you will ever possess. Not one of you could collect enough tokens to buy this mount, not this Ottersmas or the next. That's the difference between us. That's why I'm elite, and you're just a group of hopeless casuals."

"So you have no life" replied Roka, looking the frost knight over, "you genuinely think that makes you better?"

"From where I'm standing," said Brakka, "it makes me the best."

Gunnar snorted. "Fine. Tell yourself that. Make yourself believe that and congratulations, you're the best. So what? Why bother us? Why waste so much of our time and yours on showing us that you're the best?"

"To show you" he replied, "make damn sure you know that compared to me, you guys are nothing."

Stepping forward, Exra grinned. "Oh no, that's not all." She turned, glancing toward her guildmates. "Look at his achievement list."

One by one, the guild right-clicked on Brakka, pulling up his achievement lists. The frost knight sat, arms folded arrogantly across his chest, feeling their eyes brushing over him. "Server first on reaching max level" he said. "First in the game. Also first to get an undefeated one hundred kill streak in PvP. First to decorate my guild house in all the rare furnishings, first to open fifty gold chests, first to kill the end level bosses..."

Exra snapped her fingers, "But not the first to kill the hidden boss."

A hush fell over the group.

"Is that why you dislike us so much?" asked Gunnar. "That you're afraid that The Loser's Legion is going to beat you to it?"

Brakka glared back at the buffalo, his eyes narrowing. "You're kidding yourself if you think that you'll ever manage that" he said.

"Seems to me" said Roka "that you're so convinced that you're a winner that you just can't face seeing yourself as a loser like the rest of us."

The frost knight seemed to lurch forward, the ferrets beneath him scrambling to keep up. "What do you know?" he snapped. "You're just a group of noobs, you can't even manage to get more than six people in your poxy guild!" He looked from one figure to the next, staring at each one intently. "You'll never defeat Abbadon and you know it!" With a disgruntled snarl, the frost knight turned, kicking one of the small ferrets below him until it scurried into a clumsy, inelegant three-point turn in the busy fairground walkway. Then, swaying atop the little creatures, Brakka wavered his way into the distance.

Exra gave a long, trembling sigh of relief. "Thought he'd never leave."

Gunnar nodded, his face turned down.

Roka glanced towards the buffalo. "Are you alright? That was pretty uncomfortable for everyone."

Slowly, Gunnar shook his head. "What if he's right?" he asked quietly.

Stepping closer, Biggie leaned down over the buffalo. "HE IS DUMB AND WRONG."

"Is he?" replied Gunnar. "What if he's wrong? What if there really is no chance of beating Abbadon?"

The cleric drew himself up, standing tall. "We'll keep trying. Even if it takes years, we should keep trying. It will hold us together" he said. "Someone told me that once, do you remember?"

Gunnar was quiet. Slowly, quietly and eventually, he looked up. Finally he said "Aye, lad. Aye, I remember. A buffalo never forgets."

Roka leaned down, and patted Gunnar on the shoulders. "I know what will cheer you up."

The buffalo looked up. "Aye? What's that, laddie?"

"Tell us about the otters" said the canine.

A slight smile flickered across the buffalo's mouth. "You sure you want to hear?"

Roka nodded.

Brightness seemed to return to the warrior's face. His lips curled into a smile, big and toothy. "Well laddie, if you're sure. It's a long story, though. Sure you got time?"

"All the time in the world" said Roka.