Chương 31: I like the cut of his jib.

The player counter on the wall had changed after the lady and the lizard died. Red Team: 18 Blue Team: 20 Total Players remaining: 38 >>Hey, Identify. Which one of these goons is Prince Neco? A figure on the right side of the room lit up with a soft blue glow, and a faint white line stretched from George to the prince, then disappeared. >>Well, that is neat. This helmet has a heads-up display. >>(Not worth it.) <Name: Prince Neco Race: Sylph, augmented Level: 102, D-Grade Profession: Royal Family, Second Tier Class: Cutthroat Spyrer Abilities: Flawless Victory; Point Break; Say Hello To My Little Friend; Frankly, My Dear; etc. Titles: Prince of the Rook; Slumming It; Five for Five. House: The Rook House Rank: Five Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: Blocked> Neco had vaguely elvish features, with a long face and a slightly pointed nose. His blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

He wore a complicated suit of black armor, layered with straps and fitted with elegant, cruel-looking attachments slotted into silver sockets. He wore gleaming metal forearm bracers that each sported twin barrels that looked like they might be great for shooting something. >>Well, well. We just met, and I already don't like him. >>What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall when his future bung palsy reaches the "migratory barnacles" stage. >>Then comes the "teleportive bowel slippage" stage, then… implosion.

George blinked and got a distant look as his imagination failed to picture exactly what Nod was describing. >>Finally, what is left is more bung than man… Pine raised his voice and addressed Top again, "So, Top. As I said, two people will explode, and then someone will explain the rules, but I think we still have a few minutes if you'd like to hear how I think this trial will go down." That was when Top lost his battle with holding down his vomit. He rushed to the wall and threw up against it.

Like the blood, Top's last meal glistened briefly before disappearing.

"Trial Aficionado means that guy is slippery as hell," the woman on the other side of Top's section said.

"Don't believe a word that comes out of his mouth."

"June," Pine smiled at her.

"You're alive." <Name: June Dolora Race: Re-enchanted Human Level: 91, E-Grade Class: Priestess of Nyx Holy Gifts: Shroud of Nyx; Dolora's Lament; Bitch, Please!; Members-Only Killbox Holy Traits: Not Much of a Priestess; Why, God? Holy Relics: Nightbeam Staff Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: Nyx is the goddess of night, spirits, and cold revenge. She walks the sidereal vacuum at the inner rim of the void and is often depicted with two faces: one smiling, one enraged.

It is understood that both faces mean the same thing. Her followers earn double experience when drunk, standing in shadow, or holding a grudge. >"As for being a bad Saar," June went on.

"This one is as Saar as they come. If you have a deathmark under that helmet, stay the hell away from him." June had the gravelly voice of a pack-a-day smoker. Her tanned, weather-beaten face was crisscrossed with lines, and her grey-and-black hair floated in wisps around her head. Her whole body was hidden inside an ankle-length black coat. She held a staff that was taller than she was that she leaned on like a walking stick.

"June, don't scare the poor man. He's only level 17, and we were just getting to know one another," Pine said. Pine turned back to Top and said, "Top, my advice for a guy like you is to keep your head down. Git in a hole and hope nothing finds you," Pine continued.

"Vote with the majority and try to attach yourself to someone who will last longer than a few rounds."

"Hey, priest lady," Top said.

"Should we all just hide out there? Is this guy full of shit?"

"I told you what I think of him. When the game begins, you'll have to make your own decisions," June said.

"I have not been in this trial before. I wouldn't be surprised if he has; however, you can bet anything he tells you will only serve his own agenda."

"It is the swarmers you will have to watch out for, Top," Pine said.

"I count at least three, and if this game goes long, they are going to make things… tricky."

"What are swarmers?" George asked.

"Everyone develops strategies to survive the trials. Swarmers go for the strength-in-numbers approach. Trials are generally individual affairs, so swarmers try to multiply after the trial begins. Hence, the longer a trial goes on, the more there are. It isn't a bad strategy."

"So, which ones are swarmers?" Top said, tapping on the force field to get Pine's attention again.

"And what do we do about it?" Pine pointed to another woman curled on the ground with pitch-black skin and leathery wings curled around herself, "See that bat lady? She's not so much of a person as a walking egg, and this is the last we'll see of her. She'll stick herself to some dark corner and begin her brood cycle. Some nasty little creatures called vordigans will hatch out of her in an hour or so. They can mimic voices and are basically all teeth, claws, and muscle.

They like to hide in weird places and can completely flatten themselves. They don't like light. Every batch always has at least one more broodmother, sometimes two, so the longer the trial goes on, the more vordigans hatch. If you see the broodmother before she hatches, do us a favor and kill her with fire." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"And there is that scrawny, dime store necromancer next to the little girl. He's sure to cause trouble. Swarming is a necromancer's stock and trade," Pine said.

<Name: Ezra Deathmantle Race: Mottled Fleshling Level: 47, F-Grade Class: Neophyte Necromancer Prodigy Abilities: Corpse Kerfuffle; Dead Ringer; Lemonade For One Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: Necromancers use death essence to manifest a host of death-related effects, including but not limited to undead resurrection, bone spear, imbue skeleton, flesh golem, corpse explosion, etc. Necromancers are known for the power and efficacy of their skill tree and for the consequent antipathy others show toward them.

The average life expectancy for necromancers is a paltry four trials, a stat only softened by the fact that, upon the event of their death, all necromancers are raised as some form of undead. >"Where do they get these names?" Pine said, "Odds are, someone will kill that guy before he gets going, but if one of these stronger players gets reanimated, or if there are other non-player creatures out there, we could have a lot of zombies on our hands." >>Neophyte Necromancer is like getting a job in death's mailroom.

>>But zombies are the worst. Let's hope that guy gets got. As if on cue, the third swarmer, the glowing dog-sized pile of green slime in another part of the room, let out a guttural, drawn-out bloooorrrrpppp. Then it began to vibrate and ripple with contractions. >>Look at that thing! Its mother was probably a vat of something. With another moan that walked the fine line between ecstasy and pain, the slime sprayed a wad of green jelly onto the floor in front of itself.

The new, small glob of slime collected itself into a pile and then started to pulse with light in time with the larger slime. >>Did that thing just do what I think it did? >>If you're thinking that it just crapped out a clone, then yes, I suspect it did.

"And there is our third swarmer," Pine said.

"Don't let it touch you."

"OK, trial guy," Top said.

"If trials are for individuals, why does that guy have those women with him?" Top asked, pointing at a skinny middle-aged man standing over three seated women in front of him.

"June, do you want to take this one?" Pine said, but she only raised her middle finger at Pine and said nothing.

"Everything in this game can be bought and sold, and there are 100 exceptions to any rule, which is another way to say that if you are strong enough, there are no rules," Pine said.

"This includes the rule that everyone enters trials alone. My guess is that those four have been bound with a wager stone, a rare item that makes binding contracts between individuals.

"The holder of the stone sets the terms, and if the vassals break the contract, they die. Some people use it to bring cannon fodder into a trial with them. It has certain drawbacks, though. The contract only lasts as long as the holder of the wager stone is alive. Hence, the wager part. It makes the holder of the stone a tempting target of their would-be allies."

"Isn't that right, June?" Pine said, but June did not acknowledge the comment.

"Other than swarmers, I can see a few standout individuals here that you will want to steer clear of," Pine went on, "The first is that bald white guy sitting on the ground. He is a Concatenating Cipher, and that means he can do basically whatever he wants.

"The second is that guy over there in the black tactical armor," Pine gestured with his teacup at a bearded man in black armor with a large scar running across one eye. The other had been replaced by what looked like a mechanical eye implant embedded in his face. <Name: Webb Race: Human, Augmented Level: 150, D-Grade Profession: Sentient Machine Therapist Abilities: Maniac Cludger; Budge Nuzzard; Blood Radian; Sad Day For The Hangman.

Kelsior Upgrades: Emissary Shard of the Ill-Starred Knight; Faraday Exosuit Guild: Moa Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: Blocked. > >>Wow. If you said, "Dear Nod, draw me a buffed-out space ninja," I would draw that guy. >>I like the cut of his jib. >>That robo-eyepatch is really working for me, too. When do I get one of those, George? >>Truth be told, I want that guy's whole everything. >>I'm in love.

"The Moa guild has members in every house. They are a cross between mercenaries and assassins. They're known for integrating cybernetics and neuronetics into their bodies and gear in ways no one else has been able to duplicate," Pine said.

"And the third is Prince Neco. He's a spoiled little sociopathic shit, but he'll have been well-trained in exactly what to do to win this trial," Pine said.

"And the Rook do not play fair."

"What about those weird, floaty dudes over there?" Top said, pointing to two enigmatic players in neighboring enclosures.

"Those are Concepts," Pine said.

"They aren't really players. They are personifications of aspects of reality. They won't do much and they can't be killed."

"Why can't they be killed." George said. George looked at the two strange players, and Identify popped up for each. <Concept of Imbalance> <Concept of Metamorphosis> The Concept of Imbalance was a floating disc with two concentric circles of debris around it that looked like planetary rings. The inner ring was entirely made of a white substance, like broken bits of chalk or ivory, and the outer ring was comprised of small black chunks of obsidian or dark crystal.

The Concept of Metamorphosis was also a floating shape, but instead of two rings, it looked like a constantly shifting pictogram character or rune from some obscure language. The rune shape continuously changed, but they were always made from floating bits of bright bronze material.

"They can't be killed because they aren't properly alive. They just exist conceptually as aspects of the game. In this case, they are the personifications of balance and change," Pine said.

"But they've been drafted into either the blue or red team, so if we want to get them out, we have to vote them out."

"OK," Pine said, setting his mug down and turning to face his neighbors.

"I gave you a load of life-saving information there, Top. What do I get in return?"

"I don't know, man," Top said.

"How about you don't kill me, and I don't kill you out there. Deal?"

"I am not worried about you killing me, Top. Try again," Pine said.

"Wait, are you serious? You want me to pay you for answering my question?" Top said.

"Yes. I am serious. I've just given you information about your six most likely causes of death. How do you think I got that information? It didn't come cheap. Why should I give it away for free?"

"Oh," Top said.

"How about this? I'll take you under my wing," Pine said.

"I'll help you make it through this trial, and in return, you put your vote where I tell you to put it. We'll meet in the hunting rounds, and I'll watch your back."

"Like we are on a team?" Top said.

"Exactly. Just like we are on a team," Pine said.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good to me," Top said. Then, he looked at June and George and said, "How about you guys? Do you want to join our team?" June just said, "Go fuck yourself." George said nothing.

"Look at us all getting along," Pine said.

"This is why I love the trials. They forge strangers into the most unlikely families."

"So, how do I find you out there whenever this round is done?" Top asked.

"You just stay put. I'll find you," Pine said, shifting his gaze to George and giving him a quick wink.

"Ok. Sounds good to me," Top said. He blew out a deep breath and rubbed his sweaty hands on the legs of his slacks. Pine said, "Also, when you get to choose ability orbs, try to get the ones called 'Full-On Switcharoo' or 'Nip It In the Bud.' Got it?"

"OK, cool. I'll try to get those ones," Top said.

"Are they good or something?"

"Yeah. You'll see," Pine said. >>This deal has "cannon fodder" and "shakedown" written all over it. Do you want to tell him, or shall I? >>Neither. >>Pine has sort of a Jeff Probst-meets-Randall Flagg-vibe. >>He seems like your classic functional-but-murdery sociopath. >>Yet, I feel strangely drawn to him. >>Go figure. >>I think that says a lot about you, Nod. >>Fair point, mate. Fair point. A chime sounded, and a round opening appeared in the center of the room.

A platform rose slowly from the opening, carrying a tall, slender figure. When the platform was level with the floor, the room fell silent. Even the stranger creatures in the room stopped screeching and attacking the force field that imprisoned them to look at the newcomer.

"Welcome to the trial," the figure said.

"I am Razza, the moderator."