Play of Shadows

2.12: The Lion, the Goat, and the Dragon

The master of the treasure hall was hidden under an avalanche of glittering objects. The players quickly figured out that what they had found buried by the gate was a beast's tail, thick as a man's arm. The sea of gold made it impossible to tell where the rest of the creature lay or how large it was, but it must not be small in size, judging by the tail alone.

"It's a dragon. I mean, look at all this," one of the players said, gesturing at the magnificent clutter.

"I don't know. Did you see the tail? It looked more like a snake to me," another argued.

"If it's a snake, there could be more than one. Don't they like, sleep in nests?" a teen piped in, sounding much too eager at the prospect.

The other two players promptly blanched and hissed at the kid to shut up. When they noticed Frances walking their way, they straightened like kids caught brawling by a teacher.

"Did you find something?" Frances asked.

He was answered by shaking heads and mutters.

"Don't touch anything," Frances reminded, then continued his circuit around the cleared portion of the room.

The players worked in groups to search for clues. They were moving slowly, relying on Frances to scout ahead before advancing further into the yawning maw of the chamber. It was a flawed approach but it was safe, as far as active gameplay went. Asking the players to just sit and behave themselves while Frances and Michael – and possibly Svetlan, if the man was in the mood to be helpful – searched for a way to clear the stage was certain to raise suspicion. The players might be muddle-headed, but they weren't that far gone.

So instead, Frances was stuck babysitting while Michael explored the chamber. Much of the hall was in shadow. Sconces were mounted high up the walls at regular intervals, but not all were lit and those that were flickered unsteadily. Frances wondered if it was the monster's breath that disturbed their flames. He paced anxiously, staring into the dark like he could make the creature materialize through sheer will.

"Go if you must."

Frances had marked Svetlan's approach. He huffed in response, eyeing the man with a dubious look.

"You'll watch them?" he asked.

"They are not toddlers, Frances," Svetlan sighed. "Yes, I will keep an eye on them. Go collect your friend. We should move soon – otherwise, the game may decide to provide an incentive to speed our exploration."

VR instances were not bound by time in a traditional sense. A player could experience days or even weeks in the span of an hour, which allowed for storytelling and games with expansive plots that could nonetheless be completed during a single immersion. However, time still passed and since spending too much time in a pod could have dire physical consequences, games ensured that players kept to the predetermined timeline.

When they didn't, the game would...give them a push.

Frances had experienced the ground breaking under his feet once when his team failed to clear a stage in time and were sent a level lower automatically – right atop a mid-level boss party. Forced advancement was a kind of a hint, and it was provided with a corresponding punishment by the system. He shuddered to think what sort of means a glitched instance would employ to motivate progress.

Still, he wavered. Michael had not been gone too long yet, and Svetlan was still a large question mark. Frances was not sure what they would find if they left the players to Svetlan's care. Or if they would find them at all.

Thankfully, Michael emerged from the dark just then, panting and wild-eyed and generally a little rougher around the edges than when he had set off. "Goat," he gasped.