“Players marveled that NEMO had a skill for just about everything. They also cursed this same fact. It took an obscene amount of time just to be able to learn what many people considered the basic skills for high level play. Instead of careful plans, players began taking the skills they needed right then, safe in the knowledge that they could always learn more later.”

  From “Shifting Priorities, Adaptive Planning for Unexpected Situations”

  Year 1, Month 2, Day 6, 16:00

  Torgon watched the bustle of the new dungeon camp. The number of players here was considerably lower than at the other camp and it wasn’t entirely due to the remote nature of the dungeon. Reluctance to push inside the dungeon was obvious among his people and the members of other groups.

  He nudged Hyperia, “Nobody wants to run back into the dungeon to farm it. The fire and acid damage is too much.”

  Hyperia laughed, “Can you blame them? I don’t like being burned or melted. I want plenty of resistance potions to farm this place, and I might even consider getting the resistance skills that are available. They were on my list already, but if we run into more slimes, I will prioritize them. It hurts Torg.”

  While they observed the camp more bad news reached them. Dusty joined them and shared what she had been told, “A group tried the hard mode, and it get so much worse. There are two new slimes, blue and yellow. The blue slimes use cold attacks that slow players and the yellow slimes use electrical attacks that stun players. The combination wiped the group attempting the harder version.”

  Torgon cursed, “New plan. Let’s pull back from this dungeon and figure out a way to get a suite of resistance potions before we try it again. We have other major quests to pursue before we can properly access the central ruins in any case.”

  Back at the base, Torgon and Dusty grabbed Stabitha and her alchemy teams and dragged them to research hall. They requested that everyone currently there finish up as quickly as possible to allow the alchemists to begin researching the ice and electrical resistance potions. The forty available slots should chew through the potions quickly.

  Dusty’s eyes unfocused as she ran the numbers in her head. “Torg, this won’t be too bad. We have 40 alchemists with an average research progress of over a dozen hours per actual hour. They’ll unlock the base version of each potion in less than three hours per potion. We should have the level 10 version that we need for the dungeon in a day and a half.”

  Torgon grinned, “That’s great news. Just a speedbump.”

  Dusty nodded emphatically, “Even better, they can unlock higher level versions of the potions that should give us an easier time within another day or two. They can backfill the fire and acid resistance potions at that point to boost them as well. I think we can begin properly tackling the hard mode of the Temple of Unclad Bone in about three days.”

  Torgon thought it over, “We’ll time the major push to start after the next guild base raid. Until then we can pursue the road building and transport quests.” He left Dusty at the research hall to manage the alchemists and headed over to the crafting hall to check in with the carriage team.

  The first things he saw were the five newly constructed carriages sitting on the floor of the hall. He whistled and walked around them, noting their rough finish and utilitarian feel. He ran his hand over the wood and closed his eyes. He imagined he could feel the thrum of mana inside them.

  The head of the carriage project walked over to him, “Sir, we’re making solid progress. The first five are done and the next set will be quicker and easier. I think we can finish our obligations to the crown in two weeks or less depending on how much work we finish while buffed.”

  Torgon beamed, “That’s excellent news! The sooner we have them finished the sooner we can start making them for our own use. Can we turn them in with partial lots?”

  The foreman shook his head, “No, we tried with the five. The quest will only let us turn in the full 50 unless it’s the last day. It would take a partial amount then, but we should be done well before our time is up.”

  Torgon sighed, “Partial credit would have been nice. Keep at it. It will be a nice chunk of experience for everyone when you finish.” He left them to continue working on the carriages without his interference. He made his way to the library to review the two major quests in progress.

  The road construction continued albeit slowly. Connecting all of the starter zones took time and a massive amount of quarried stone. At any given moment, there were between two and five thousand players working in different directions from all the starting towns. They made progress and it was merely a matter of time before they finished. The numbers in front of him put the estimate at two sixdays.

  The fortresses were another matter. They needed to have connected roads built first, and then they could start hauling the bulk stone and wood blocks needed to construct the defenses. Seventeen total fortresses were required by the quest. Each structure would serve as a defensive post and help anchor a magical formation to suppress the undead that would emerge from the ruin.

  Each building required 1,000 units of bulk stone and 1,000 units of bulk wood to be constructed. In turn, each unit of bulk stone and wood required 1,000 basic units to be assembled. Seventeen million total basic units of stone and wood seemed a staggering amount, but with over 300,000 players active in the zone it could all be achieved within a few days. Risk of Injury alone churned out enough resources to build one or two fortresses a day if the guild’s focus was on the buildings alone.

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  The headache that Torgon felt brewing owed itself to how difficult it would be to move the bulk stone and wood to the fortresses to build them. Each had to be assembled in a starter town. They could not be teleported, and they could not be placed in a player’s inventory. Every bulk unit had to be moved overland along the roads to their final destination.

  A player could carry a single bulk unit on their back. This limited them to walking speeds and rendered them unable to defend themselves. If they died while carrying the stone or wood there was a 90% chance that it would be destroyed and only a 10% chance that it would be dropped. The route to the fortresses promised to be a griefer’s paradise.

  Each block that was turned in could earn a player 100 free experience points. The journey took hours and was not a task that could be safely accomplished as a solo player. The dark guilds, those focused on killing players, would haunt the routes close to the fortresses looking for easy prey.

  The carriages promised an easy solution to the problem, turning a trip that was 8 hours of walking into a single hour of riding in style. The trick would be producing enough of them by the time they were needed. Right now, Ovarrix had a plan that involved 2,000 players carrying the blocks in an 8-hour operation while they were escorted by all the available combat players in the guild.

  Torgon hated that plan. The trip would either be utterly boring or an ambush waiting to happen. He could see the necessity, but the lost opportunity for experience made him shudder. He just hoped that the carriage production proceeded smoothly enough to let them ride instead of hoof it.

  Torgon found himself in the unusual position of not wanting to craft and not being desperately needed to craft. He checked in with the teams and made his way to the portals. Markus was just bringing his group of players into Camp Alpha to turn in a series of undead kill quests. Torgon quickly traveled there to join up with his friend.

  Markus led around five hundred players in a rotating farm team. His family accompanied him and Torgon grinned at Markus leading the group with a smile on his face. “Torg! Have you come to join us on the farming?”

  Torgon nodded, “I have. I could use some free experience and mindless killing.”

  Markus slapped his back, “Perfect! It’s nice out here in the wilds. It’s taking us about three hours currently to fill up the quests for everyone and rotate back to the camp. We exchange players that need to leave for those that need to join and just keep rolling through the mobs.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Torgon replied. “I should be free for at least a couple of rotations, and I don’t mind killing undead after dark.”

  The force headed back into the broken hills, taking out stray undead as they moved to areas where concentrated groups of enemies poured out of the central ruin. They took up positions with tanks keeping fast undead away from the group while the ranged forces rained down spells and weapons to thin the advancing ranks. Scouts were arrayed all around to keep an eye on the monsters and potential player problems.

  Torgon eyed Markus and asked, “Have there been many problems with PKs?”

  Markus shrugged, “A few. Most hostiles avoid groups our size, but a few crazier griefers take pot-shots while we’re engaged. We’ve been keeping a clear perimeter after some incidents. I do have some concerns however.”

  “What are they?” Torgon asked.

  Markus scanned the horizon as he spoke, “We’re predictable, so if anyone wanted to ambush us, they could.”

  Torgon raised an eyebrow, “Have you seen signs?”

  Markus shook his head, “Nothing concrete Torg. It’s mostly just a feeling. You know that itch you get between your shoulders when someone is setting up on you.”

  “I do,” Torgon said while he also scanned the horizon. He fired off messages to Allestor and Ovarrix, letting them know the situation and Markus’s suspicions. They diverted extra scouts to watch the areas around the farm teams just in case.

  The first rotation finished smoothly. Everyone earned experience and loot and they made solid time. They headed back to the farming grounds and began pulling once more. The sun was setting in the sky and the undead grew more powerful and numerous. The experience and loot rolled in.

  A scout sent a frantic message, “Hostiles inbound, numbers unknown, at least a thousand. It’s the raiders and friends.”

  Markus looked at Torgon and Torgon just motioned for Markus to keep running his show. Markus started issuing orders, “Pullers, cease grabbing undead, we have incoming hostile players. Tanks, shift formation to the east. They’re trying to use the setting sun to silhouette our group for better targeting. Ranged, prepare to engage when they’re visible. No need to hold back.”

  Torgon spoke, “If we can hold out for ten minutes, we’ll have backup from Allestor and then another fifteen minutes we can get a big force from Ovarrix.” Markus nodded and went back to putting his team on the defensive. Torgon slipped explosive arrows out of his inventory and smiled grimly.

  A scout yelled, “Contact East, fifty.”

  Arrows arced in the direction the scout called. Players with better low light vision targeted the incoming enemy force independently. The attackers sent return missile fire of their own into the Risk of Injury players. The hostile forces made little sound when injured but cries of pain rose from Markus’s team.

  Torgon smiled again, “They still haven’t upped their pain setting. Their attacks won’t be as effective as ours.”

  The two sides engaged in a sporadic long range missile duel while the enemy shifted more forces into place. Markus ordered, “Prepare to receive a charge. They’re melee and strength focused. I want AoE attacks to break their formations and keep the heals focused on our tank wall.”

  Yells rang out as over 1,000 hostile players rushed towards the outnumbered Risk formation. Torgon placed explosive arrows in bunches, breaking their already ragged formation. Mages on the risk team selectively slowed groups with ice spells while the archers focused on clumps.

  When the enemy were less than twenty yards away, Markus yelled, “Now!” Immediately the tank line hurled grenades and shattered the incoming wave of attackers. The concussion and damage staggered the enemy charge and Markus picked up the cry, “Advance!”

  The tanks pushed forward in line with supporting missile fire. They were still outnumbered, but the discipline and superior gear proved equal to the task. Healers moved close behind the front lines, keeping them healthy. The mix of Red Hat Raiders and One Percenters seemed short on effective combat healers, leading to far more deaths on their side.

  The advance of the tanks stalled, and the quantity advantage of the enemy started to shine. Risk players started to fall, and the momentum shifted to a slow retreat. Bright explosions flashed from the rear of the enemy group, breaking their advantage.

  Allestor had arrived.