Chapter 15 - Paragons

I startle awake, surprised to have slept. Twenty four days, twelve hours remain. I slept half the day away. I should regret wasting time, but I don't. I needed the break, all of this violence and stress is so unlike the life I lived before. Work, raising my daughter, finding spare moments to spend time with my wife. Those are stressors I’m used to. My mind seems sharper, memories more intact, after I sleep. An icon with three z’s pops up under my health bar.

Rested - 1000% increase to experience gains - Duration 6 hours

That ought to help with leveling. Since I hit level 42 my gains have slowed to a crawl, spending time doing anything other than killing. Sitting up, I finally notice the players crowding around me, shouting in my face. Without unmuting them, I walk through the crowd like a ghost. They can’t physically restrain me if we aren't in combat, their wild swinging and crude emotes ineffective as I pass. Bert serves me another pig n’ piss meal before I head out for the day, I take my time, closing my eyes to chew. Someday I’ll have my own place like Peter, where nobody can bother me. That will probably happen sooner than these idiots leave me alone. Are they mad that I’m hacking, or that they can’t get away with doing it themselves?

I wish I had a few good hacks up my sleeve. The slog ahead of me is daunting. Three weeks to level fifty seven more times before I can even think about scrounging up the gold to pay off my game time. I don’t even know where to go next. The King Emperor and his… clone? Child? didn’t give me a new quest. I look over to the quests section of my interface, watching it blink. I mentally click on it, opening a new window called Next Steps.

Quest available: Thunder God’s Belt

Quest available: Thunder God’s Iron Gauntlets

Quest available: Thunder God’s Shield

Quest available: Thunder God’s Chariot

Quest available: Uniting the Forces

Quest available: Meet the Paragons

Huh. I wonder how long I’ve been able to see the quests available to me. The last quest listed calls to me for some reason, so I select it.

Meet the Paragons Accepted!

Enter the Halls of Honor and meet the other Paragons. 0/1

The map marker is on the rich side of town, where the Honorlord lives. I take my time, smelling the roses. Unfortunately even the nicer area doesn't have roses, or gardens. The whole city is one big war machine, preparing to do battle with any number of enemies beyond the gates. Orcs bark orders at cyclops, building new structures. Minotaur haul supplies from place to place. Goblins try their best not to get stepped on. I finally reach the Halls of Honor, an out-of-place viking inspired building. The peak of the tile roof has crossed dragon heads carved out of wood, resting atop walls that serve as murals for great battles. I’m not sure how I hadn't noticed it before.

As I walk up the first new steps leading inside the portal arch, I realize my hangers-on are no longer with me. Turning, the angry mob has gathered at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me, unmoving. They throw no tomatoes, or insults. Neat. I leave them behind. The loading screen shows the interior of a vast dining hall, warmly lit, long tables with fine food piled high. Several decorated heroes sit, rapt attention on the solitary standing figure, clearly recounting tales of their heroic deeds.

Seconds after the loading screen dissipates, I find myself pressed against a wall, one arm over my shoulder, a face inches from mine. The face breathes deep, flat green nose taking in my scent. “New blood.” The towering orc woman greets me. My audio seems to have automatically unmuted.

Moi ensuite

“Uh, hi” I say, looking around for a way out. All I can see is the figure towering over me. She has red eyes like low flames, the braided blonde hair of a shield maiden. Scars crisscross her face and exposed, ample chest. The bicep next to my ear flexes.

“What’s your class?” She asks.

“Aren't you going to take me to dinner first?” I joke. The orc grins down at me.

“Come on, let’s introduce you to the others” She releases me, walking around and further into the hall. I take a second to slow my heart before following her. What’s with orc women and coming onto me within seconds of our meeting?

“We’ve got fresh meat!” She announces to the gathered masses. Four Paragons are arranged around the room, most minding their own business.

A lion beastman clad in shining golden armor stands to greet me. He shakes my hand.

“Oreskos” he says. “Pleased to meet you.” His mane lays white hair on his white furred head. One of his eyes is closed, a jagged scar across the lid. The golden plate covering every inch of his body below the neck contrasts the barely armored orc that cornered me. She wears sparse leather strips, bound tightly.

“Earl.” I tell him. The orc throws her arm around his shoulders, grinning.

“What, no title?” She asks, Oreskos shrugs her off with a glare.

“You’re one to talk, Helga the Bloodthirsty. I bet you didn’t even tell him your name yet” Another figure speaks, emerging from further behind them. A great floating skeleton clad in black cloth and golden jewelry joins us in the warm torchlight. “Archlich Pelgingose, at your service.” I look over his broad shoulder at the last member of this little group, unmoving from the far corner. “That’s Tim the Alchemist. He’ll come greet you in his own time.”

“Nice to meet you.” I tell the boney wizard.

“So, what’s your class?” Helga asks. I wonder why she can’t just see it, before noticing there’s no floating names above their heads, classes or levels. This hall is preventing some aspects of the game interface.

“Weaponmaster.” I tell her.

“Ooooh. New one!” She nods in approval. “What’s your deal, Weaponmaster?”

“I command floating weapons” I put simply.

“Like Ultima form?” Tim asks from a distance

“I have no idea!” I respond. “I’m only level forty three so there might be more to it than that. There seems to be a Thor theme emerging.”

“Oh my god Chris Hemsworth can get it!” Helga moans. The two at her side roll their eyes, at least the lion does. The skeleton has red glowing orbs in his sockets that do not have pupils, and yet, I get the distinct feeling he rolled them.

“What’re your classes, if you don’t mind my asking?” I inquire politely.

“Berserker!” Helga flexes.

“Paladin.” Oreskos tells me.

“The most basic bitch class” Helga says, earning a scowl. “What?”

“I am a necromancer, though I am not just the paragon of my class, I am the pinnacle of intellect-based classes as a whole.” Pelgingose informs me.

“Hashtag Humble brag” Helga says, elbowing Oreskos. He shoos her away. “Tim’s an alchemist, obviously.”

“Right” I agree. “So what’s a Paragon, exactly, and what makes me one?” I finally ask. Pelgingose makes a sound like clearing his throat, without the requisite esophagus.

“Paragons are the highest ranked members of their class. Among our colleagues, we have the most accomplishments. Through dungeon clearing, player versus player combat, or sheer levels.” He gestures to a flat stone monument standing near the entrance of the hall. “Using the stone, you can see how you compare to others. Some choose to monitor the rankings very closely, so they never lag behind their competition.” He gestures with his head at Helga. She punches him in the shoulder, his body sounds like a wind chime in a hurricane. “Ouch.”

I walk to the stone, placing my hand on the surface. Text forms under my fingers.

Weaponmaster Rankings

Earl

“I’m the only one in the rankings.” I inform them before they see for themselves.

“That makes sense.” says Oreskos. “I’ve never heard of your class before.” The others nod in agreement. He starts to say something else, before a chime sounds. They all stiffen, then pose themselves separately around the room, becoming living statues.

“Media” Helga hisses, trying to warn me. I’m still caught off guard as a gaggle of players swarm though the entrance, looking around frantically. One of them spots me, and the rest follow them to surround me.

“Paragon, is it true that you’ve been hacking the game?” One of them shouts. I notice all of them have one eye glazed over, they’re recording this.

“Paragon, do you have a response to Thunderspank’s accusation that you somehow stole his equipment?” Another asks, before I could even open my mouth to respond to the first question. A third and forth shout their questions as well, but are cut off as Thunderspank rounds the corner and marches directly up to me. One of his bovine eyes is smokey as well.

“Sup.” He asks. The crowd around us is still and silent, waiting for whatever happens next.

“Not much.” I respond. “What’s up with you?” Thunderspank seems surprised by my casual response to his casual question.

“So,” he picks up the conversation, if you could call it that. “A couple days back my account gets hacked, my equipment gets sold off, and the profits sent away to a character that no longer exists. pretty standard stuff.” he turns to the crowd. “Not standard, however, is my Spankies telling me that some Earl guy is running around in my gear!” he turns to me, a finger almost poking my chest.

“Er…” I try to speak

“You hacked my account, and pretended to be some armor vendor N.P.C. to cover the tracks!” he accuses

“That’s not…”

“But the Game Monitors have my back!” he takes the time to nod to each of the people nearby. “They restored my account in a timely fashion, with all of my equipment and other items!”

“Are you giving them a five star review while you’re yelling at me?” I ask incredulously. He turns on me with a furious expression.

“The Monitors do the hard, thankless work behind the scenes that no one sees!” He continues screaming. “The only question is…” now he poses, finger outstretched towards me. “Is why you’re not banned!”

“Because I’m not hacking and the monitors know that.” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m an innocent bystander caught up in extraordinary circumstances.”

“Right.” Thunderspank also crosses his arms. “Innocent. That's how you ended up here, in the Halls of Honor, with some made-up class that you hacked into the game with my equipment!”

“That’s actually the closest to the truth you’ve gotten so far, well done.” I remark “Still a ways off though.”

“So you admit it?” he puffs out his chest.

“I did not hack and I am not currently hacking.” I insist.

“This is getting us nowhere.” he shakes his head. “My spankies will be keeping an eye on you, Earl, and through them, I.” he says, with a deeper voice like he’s Batman. I do not respond, letting him march out of the halls, crowd in tow. The others slowly make their way back over to me, releasing the tension in their body language as the chime sounds again.

“Cameras off?” Helga asks, looking at the other two.

“Off.” reports Oreskos

“Off.” agrees Pelgingose

“Your cam off, Tim?” Helga shouts across the room.

“I’m never recording.” Tim says without shouting, just barely loud enough for us to hear.

“So you’ve met Thunderspank, huh?” Helga asks

“Met is a strong word” I tell her

“Are you hacking?” Oreskos asks. “Cams off, you can tell us.”

“No.” I say. They wait for more details, I give them none.

“Unfortunately it would only cause you more trouble to be seen with us.” Oreskos says, seeming to justify why none of them stepped in during that exchange.

“We’ve all got our own reputations to look out for.” Pelgingose chimes in. “It wouldn't do to be associated with a hacker, even someone accused of such.”

“Right.” I say. “So you’re all celebrities or something?”

“We’re Paragons,” Begins Oreskos. “Being the best of the best comes with a lot of attention, sponsorships, interviews.”

“For a video game?” I ask, unbelieving.

“Yes,” Pelgingose answers. “Video games have been a big business since The Return To Normalcy act was passed.” The others nod along. “You can make a living being a Crossroads Online Streamer. We do.” I remember streamers from the very early 20's. I never paid them much attention.

“You should probably start streaming yourself. You’re a Paragon.” Oreskos tells me. “You’d never have to work a day in your life.”

“Hey, being a streamer is work” Helga says. The others roll their eyes.

“Not interested.” I tell them, getting ready to leave.

“If you ever need to talk to us, shoot a message in Paragon chat. You should have a new tab on your friends list. It’s totally private, our viewers can’t see it, not even the monitors.” Helga says, reaching for my arm.

“What?” I choke, my heart suddenly in my throat. The Monitor can’t see communications between Paragons? I clear my throat. “Ok, good to know, thank you.” I play it off.

“See you around” Helga winks at me.

Wink back!

No.

How are we supposed to make sweet love to that specimen of feminine divinity if you won’t make a move?

We?

You’d let me watch at least, no?

I silently pray for some way to mute the damned spear.