********************************************************************************************************Gray.
Meliadol was beginning to grow sick of this color encompassing his view. It was like floating in a well of nothingness, where every sense was muted, as if smothered. He wasn't sure how long he stayed in this place, suspended, a prisoner within the confines of gray that enveloped him.
The dullness of death as he waited to respawn.
It was almost too long, but right when he was about to scream, the overbearing gray landscape was sucked in, as if in a whirlpool and he was unceremoniously dumped on the cold ground of Styxx.
"That didn't work out so well, now did it?" Bast was annoyingly cheerful. Every day for the last three days, the berserker had insisted on watching his attempts, waiting nearby the graveyard for him to respawn.
Meliadol huffed, ignoring the berserker as he sat up."Almost had the one." he said, more to himself than to Bast.
"Bullshit." Another voice interjected, surprising Meliadol as he finally looked up. He recognized the voice, and sure enough, Darlia peered at him from under the veil of her bangs, "You're making rookie mistakes that could be easily avoided. Why won't you accept help?"
He couldn't meet her eyes and looked away, "Because I want to learn on my own."
"Then you are a fool. This is an MMO. The keyword in all of that is multiplayer. Nevergarden was never meant to be played alone."
"She's right you know." Bast interjected, throwing Meliadol a thumbs up.
"I'm doing just fine on my own." Meliadol weakly retorted.
He couldn't help himself and he went into his menu, pulling up the bar that represented his experience points. When the bar filled up from killing monsters and completing quests, he would level, and with the level would come stat gains, potential skills, and the ability to equip more powerful armor, among other things. It was a tangible representation of progress, yet the bar hadn't moved since he had gotten here.
He hadn't killed a damn thing in three days…
"You're doing terrible." She said without mercy, "And the idea that this is merely a case of 'git gud kid' makes me piss myself."
Her eyes flashed blue as she stepped forward, past Meliadol. A message popped up:
Darlia has requested a party
Accept Decline
"I don't want your help!"
"Noob, I'm not asking to party with you to carry you through this. I need it so I can Group Sync with you."
Group Sync? Meliadol briefly recalled reading something about it online. It was a system that allowed high level players to temporarily decrease their class and gear level to the lowest level party member. Mostly implemented so friends could play with each other, regardless of level disparity, it was the only way to overcome the massive experience earned penalty a lowbie would suffer if grouped with a higher level player.
But why would she want to Group Sync with him just to tank her level? The only reason Meliadol could come up with was so that she could fight the monsters with him. But she had just said that wasn't her intention…
Curiosity got the better of him, and he accepted her request, albeit reluctantly.
Her portrait, including a green bar for hit points and a blue bar for mana, which was used to cast spells and use abilities, appeared on the top left of his vision:
Party member:
Darlia, level 60 Blade Dancer.
Her portrait flashed red, the level number counting backwards until….
Darlia, level 1 Blade Dancer.
Party Chat (PC): "Alright, I've synced down to your level. Now, I still have my skills from my job, which you don't have with your base job class, but I won't use any of them for this demonstration."
Meliadol was momentarily startled, looking around before fixing his gaze on Darlia. Her voice was sounding in his mind, like his own inner narration. She must have known he would have been surprised, because she had stopped on her trek to the Skeleton Boneyard entrance to look back at him. When their eyes met, she raised a single eyebrow in wry amusement.
PC: "Calm down. This is party voice chat. It's an option on the top left of your menu. Flick it on."
Sure enough, there was a tiny option above the party portraits. He flicked it on.
PC: "Hello?"
PC: "Good, now shut yer flap and follow me, but not too close to get aggro and shit."
His jaw flexed, but he did as she asked, mostly to see what the point of all of this was. Down the winding trail from the resurrection point they went until they were thirty or so yards from the entrance to the Skeleton Boneyard. The two guards, bone white skeletons with rusty armor, were well-known by him at this point. Looking up, he could still see Bast leaning against the tree that marked the resurrection point. The bear of a man waved at him, as if wishing him luck.
Meliadol ignored Bast, instead moving to the side, still outside of aggro range, so that he could properly see what it is that Darlia wanted to show him.
PC: "You see," she began, strolling toward the entrance in a nonchalant manner, seemingly taking no notice of the skeletons who had seen her and were beginning to advance, "Your issue is easy enough. You've gotten over the first hurdle on your own, and that isn't too shabby, honestly. The fear of fighting in a world where everything is almost real isn't an easy thing to do."
His heart beat with pride at her words. It was indeed a hard thing to do in a game where he could feel the sun upon his neck to not want to recoil in fear at axes coming for his flesh. It hadn't come easy. He imagined it as standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the ground far below. The smallest of steps was all one had to take to begin a journey that would last for a short time, and yet forever. Fear of combat, of ethereal creatures of myth, and the harsh glint of sharpened blades, was akin to this step.
All one had to do was take that small step forward, in defiance to that fear, and thus it was conquered.
It was terror and freedom all wrapped into a single package.
Pure exhilaration…
PC: "But your mistake is that this isn't a solo show. There will come a point in which you must learn from others." Darlia continued, still casually walking despite the skeletons almost upon her.
Two pairs of double-bladed handaxes swung in, and Meliadol almost closed his eyes.
But the wicked instruments missed as Darlia weaved between them, never breaking the calm, steady cadence of her stride. She continued to do this as the skeletons attacked wildly. It wasn't so much that she actively dodged. It was more as if she simply moved to where the axes were not.
One skeleton kicked out, but the aptly named blade dancer spun slowly in a half-turn, weaving around the attack in a graceful display. She extended the sheath of one of her four swords, hooking the extended foot. With a sharp jerk of the pommel, the skeleton was flipped onto its back.
Meliadol openly gaped as the blade dancer played with the two mobs that had given him such issues. The entire time, the words above her party status stood out to him:
Darlia, level 1 Blade Dancer.
In the face of such overwhelming skill gap, Meliadol's face burned.
PC: "Do you know why I'm able to do this?" she asked, still weaving between the attacks like she was taking a stroll through the neighborhood.
PC: "No…"
PC: "Because this is a game." she said simply as a axe passed by her face close enough to rustle her bangs.
Because this is a game? Meliadol repeated her words in his head, confused. What the hell was she talking about? Of course it was a game! What did that have to do with anything?
Again the two axes swung down, yet she danced between the strikes as easily as a child skipping through a meadow. Meliadol seethed at the sight. She wasn't moving any faster than him. In fact, she seemed a beat slower, yet she was making fools of these foes that had stumped him. What was the difference between them? What did she mean by it's just a game?
There was a flash of brilliant steel when she finally decided to unsheath her weapon. It was a normal looking katana, except the sharpened side was carved out in waves, leaving it looking jagged and wicked. Again she resumed her dance with the pair of skeletons, except every step was accompanied by an almost lazy looking swing of that terrible blade as they failed to connect any meaningful attack.
She was true to her word. No skills were used. These were little more than simple sword swings. Yet the distance between her and Meliadol was palpable.
With a final spin that caught the light in such a way as to as to almost look like a crescent, the sword flickered between the two. She held that pose, knelt down between two skeletons, for a long second before standing up, sheathing her sword.
The skeletons fell into pieces, but she was already walking away, toward Meliadol.
She stopped when they were side by side.
Player Darlia has left the party.
Her portrait and stats vanished from his party menu. "I've given ya a big enough hint now. If you can't find out the answer still, maybe take the hand offered to you by that idiot up top. He's been supporting you this entire time. Swallow your pride, noob. Don't let the big lug waste his time on you."
With that, she disappeared, logging off, leaving a conflicted Meliadol behind to ponder her words.
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