The Fake Player

Chapter 10 - Signs of a Storm

October 15, 2136. World: Helheim. Location: Poisonous Swamp. Recommended level: 80-85

Amidst the outcropping of the poisonous swamp stood a Player. One dressed rather woefully unprepared when compared to the harsh terrain he'd found himself in. Clothed in a simple, frilly white and silver top with a corset-like leather midsection and soft white pants. A teal cape hung from his shoulder with pouches and other accessories aligning his attire. On one of his hand was a gauntlet with a contraption of some kind, a slinger. Curious of them all was an aviator helmet with goggles that possessed magnification scopes for one of the lenses.

Hendrickson – Lvl: 100

The clanking of footsteps alerted him, turning to the side to find a Player waiting there.

"So, we're ready or what?"

A feminine voice asked aloud, tinged with a certain roughness and impatience. A heavy contrast as the Player's avatar was covered head to toe in bulky silver and white heavy armor, armed with an equally massive looking greatsword resting on her shoulder.

Kaura – Lvl: 100

Hendrickson glanced at his partner, then to those right behind them. There were seven Players present, Hendrickson and Kaura included, with the other five being a magic caster, a healer, a paladin, a rogue, and lastly an archer to round out the party. With eight additional mercenary NPCs, each wielding two great tower shields, to bolster their number. In total, their party numbered fifteen. Relatively small all things considered for the mission they were about to undergo but then again, that was the point.

He didn't answer immediately, waiting a few more seconds before receiving numerous incoming [Message]'s, all conformations. Nodding to himself, he turned back to the others.

"Everything's set. We're moving out."

Affirmatives were given as spells, magic crystals, and scrolls were used; a plethora of defensive barriers and cloaking spells camouflaged the group. Suitably prepared and with all protective measures taken the party of Players and NPC marched forward unabated. In silence they traversed the dangerous terrain, showing little fear even as they passed through the thick swamp, bypassing the various mobs and monsters, most noticeably the Tuvegs.

Their destination? None other than The Great Tomb of Nazarick, headquarters to the infamous Ainz Ooal Gown.

With a game as intricate and expansive as YGGDRASIL was, combined with the strictly hands-off approach the developers employed when it came to how the game was run on a day by day basis, it wasn't surprising that the Players eventually developed their own meta systems and economy within the virtual world similar to the real world.

This hands-off approach to everything, while a source of the games challenge and intrigue, had led many players to feel discontent with the game. One way or another.

And there'll always be those that wish to profit from said discontent.

Just as there were numerous guilds work in the public eye, there are also those that work under the table so to speak.

They were known as Underground Guilds, groups of specialized individuals who dealt with the unsavory work that other people didn't wish to participate in. The Seeker guilds were among those designated as such. While their typical function of serving as mercenary scouts was far from unpleasant, it was their other services that saw them stigmatized. Infiltration, theft, sabotage and even collaborating with Assassins and PKers. As long as the payment was worth it, they'd take almost any job.

Information was worth its weight in yen and gold in YGGDRASIL, especially reliable intel. Making them a very profitable venture that came with an equally risky endeavor. For often these Seekers step into the unknown and court death at any turn, just to scrounge whatever they could. It could be almost called a daredevil profession.