Capítulo 30: CHAPTER 30 [Between Before and After]
No, of course not. Why else would I be here? I entered my name in the sender window, and where it asked for the recipient, I entered "Gray Witch." Then I attached the part of my conversation with Vuiikh where he announced what he'd like to do to the Hounds of Death and the Gray Witch in particular. Everything else, and especially the mention of the Thunderbirds and appearance of Rone and Dorn, I initially wanted to take out. Why did the Hounds need to know any of that? After giving that a bit more thought, however, I settled on a better course of action.
Dear Gray Witch,
Today I witnessed an unseemly scene in which a player, in full realisation of the consequences of his actions, insulted one of Elysium's most powerful and worthy clans: the Hounds of Death. Needless to say, simply being a member is a dream shared by the rest of the players in the game, which makes his insult to you, its leader, all the more regrettable. Certainly, the offender was immediately destroyed by myself and my friends from the Thunderbirds clan, as we could not leave such a gesture unpunished given the friendly relationship our clans have. We cannot, how-ever, be sure that he will not continue to profane the name of your clan, one of the strongest and most respected in Elysium. As proof, I am attaching a video I recorded.
With sincere respect and deference,
Leyton, warrior; Thunderbird volunteer
Something like that. Sure, I may have gone a bit overboard by at least partly acting on behalf of the clan. On the other hand, it only benefited. If all else failed, I would just say I was in shock after the day's events.
I sent the letter and looked up at the sky to see that the day was long past half gone. If was time to head back to the real world. Elvira wanted to take me somewhere that night, and I needed to get some food and work on an idea that had fully formed in my mind. Also, I needed to write up a story. Gamroth wasn't the patient type.
I mulled over everything while I ate, trying to figure out if I should go ahead with my plan. It could very well rile up quite a few players, but it would give me a chance to see how the gaming world would react to a strong irritant. On the one hand, it was all a bit frightening. The other players wouldn't be able to find me, though the developers could. Although to be fair, I wasn't impeding game progress for anyone. On the other, morbid fascination, provocations, and hullabaloos in the information sphere were my bread and butter. Without all that, I'd be stuck running around waving weapons just like everyone else in the game. Either that or, God help me, I'd have to go running off to who knows where in the east looking for material.
"Oh, whatever." I shrugged my shoulders. "What are they going to do, kill me? It's just a bunch of bearded programmers—not quite special forces."
I sat down and, before I did anything else, plugged my USB modem into my computer and unhooked the internet cable. Then I launched a program I had to generate a dynamic IP address.
"You can't be too careful" was my motto when it came to making up stories online. I doubted anyone would try to hack me, but still. God helps those who help themselves...and orcs kill those who don't.
I logged onto the game site, registered as Buzdigan, headed over to the forum, clicked on the "quests" section, and then went to the "Epic and hidden quests" subsection. A second later, I had created a new topic entitled "Bringing back the gods: nonsense or a real quest?"
"I haven't been playing long, but I'm making some progress—Level 23 already. The game's cool, everything looks great, you fight but have to use your brain, too, and the quests are fun. The PKers are a pain, but that's always true. I have a question about quests, though. I read on the forums that there are hidden and epic quests and that they give you the best stuff. It's hard to get them, though. Anyway, I was chatting with some guy recently. A few friends from college and I were at a bar after class on Friday, and he came with one of them. He just started playing Elysium, too, his level's about the same as mine, but he said that he just got a hidden quest. It was a complete accident that happened while he was saving or killing something for some other quest. Long story short, he's supposed to help some NPCs and might get something in return from the gods that left.
"So my question: Is that real? Does that happen? If it is real, can you do the quest in a group? What do you get for it? Someone has to have come across it at some point, so speak up!"
I reread what I thought was a great example of charming, not-exactly-articulate writing that could plausibly be written by your average Joe a mix of truth and lies. There was no point in thinking up some fake quest when I knew about a real one, after all. Still, it wasn't worth unveiling the whole truth. I wondered what kind of reaction it would get and clicked the send button.
Then I called Elvira and found out that we were scheduled to go to some exhibit for new artists that had supposedly discovered a new style of art. Basically, a bunch of long-haired women standing around in scarves smoking their slender little cigarettes. Who knows what they actually drew? Maybe an eye, maybe somebody's ass, but it was art. New age! Gag. Still, I had to go, since Elvira liked all that crap. I'd sit through it, she'd make me some food later, and at least that way, I wouldn't be stuck eating pelmeni yet again.
The next two hours were spent hard at work on my article, and I was nearly done when I had to start getting ready. I headed over to the wardrobe and thought for a while about what to wear. The previous occasion had been a failure. Elvira had dragged me to yet another exhibit, and I figured it would just be a bunch of half-crazed avant-garde men in their eyeliner standing around with flat-chested, pimply-faced dames squawking on about how, "It's genius! Genius, I tell you!"
So I dressed accordingly: jeans and a t-shirt featuring the likeness of a popular TV show doctor wagging his finger above a caption that read, "In this hospital, I'm king and god!" It was a cool shirt the girls from advertising gave me for my birthday. As it so happens, they were the only decent people in our snake pit.
How was I supposed to know that it wasn't a modern art exhibit? Or that it was actually a showing of pieces from the collections of different oligarchs? The "Little Dutchmen," Polenov, Aivazovsky, Serov... There was even some guy there from the Ministry of Culture, judging by the dejected way he was taking the whole picture in. It was much more impressive than what they have at Tretyakov Gallery... Although to be fair, he may have just been shocked by the fact that what he was seeing was hanging there rather than in Tretyakov Gallery.
The people in attendance were dressed accordingly—ladies in their pearls and furs hanging on the arms of their walking wallets, B-list sluts with expensive phones in one hand and tiny terriers in the other, equally B-list non-traditional pairs (at least I got something right), celebrities, a fellow journalist flagging down waiters with canape?, politicians, and all dressed to the nines. Dinner jackets, Burberry Pror-sum and Frankie Morello suits, evening gowns… Elvira was in something decked out in crystals, too, and next to her was me with the doctor on my t-shirt. We had people staring at us all night—at me and the doctor with surprise, at Elvira with sympathy. I couldn't care less, but she was of a somewhat different opinion.
She looked like she wanted to cut me when we got home. I stayed awake all night I was so worried she might try to smother me in my sleep. Don't think I'm joking—she's Tatar, and they're crazy.
Eventually, I decided to make sure my bases were covered and went with a linen suit that was as comfortable as it was universal. All set, I left for Krymsky Val[9], where the event was being held.
The exhibit wasn't worth describing except to say that I could have done better. Just give me a canvas and a few tubes of paint, as apparently squeezing the paint out of them is now an actual skill. Still, quite a few obviously well-off men and women came to see the artwork and even buy some for themselves. I walked behind Elvira for a bit as she darted around the gallery before I decided to sit down on a bench in a corner behind a palm tree. It was a nice little spot that was quiet and peaceful. I even began to doze off as I listened to the music softly wafting down from the ceiling. However, just as I started to drift away, a couple of men stopped on the other side of the palm.
I couldn't help but overhear their conversation.
"…called in all the veterans."
~ ~ ~
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