As it turned out there wasn’t a crawler in the safe room. There were six.

One of the crawlers had still been awake, checked out the noise and woke up the others. Quite convenient, as one couldn’t actually enter a bedroom without the one occupying it opening the door for you. But party members could still send messages to one another.

Two of the crawlers were already asleep, or chose to snooze meeting the newcomers, so Darryl soon found four crawlers eyeing them with expressions ranging from curiosity to distrust. None of them were player killers, except maybe the two absent ones, and all but one of them had a bronze star next to their name.

The leader seemed to be a Mr. Frederic Geruet, a bespectacled level 5 crawler in a dishevelled suit and tie whose businessman appearance was disrupted by the pointy wizard hat, two gaudy rings and elven bracers. He studied the party carefully and coolly, first to arrive but not speaking a word before the rest of his teammates joined him.

There were two more Frenchmen in his group, a Louis C. and Jean Guisso, both carrying themselves with a lot less sophistication. Louis wasn’t wearing anything obviously magical other than the oversized dagger that looked more like a giant’s toothpick, a lvl4 crawler still in his original urban appearance of a hoody and slacks combo. Jean on the other hand no longer showed any piece of clothing from his former life, the lvl5 crawler in his late twenties was completely clad in what looked like your typical fantasy squire leathers and a Viking helmet.

The last guy was German, and Gunther apparently spoke just about as much English as he spoke French. The man was in his late thirties, level 2 and wielded only a spear. He was still wearing his thick winter coat zipped up, something that even Darryl hadn’t managed in this room temperature dungeon. He eyed the party with the most interest and hope by a fair margin, which was only mildly quelled when he found out that none of them spoke his language. He didn’t stand next to the others rather taking a table for himself.

Not that Darryl and the others didn’t make for an odd group themselves. Darryl was wearing a torn-up winter coat with posh cufflinks that didn’t match it at all, a kite shield and baby puke green fingerless gloves. They opened their newly gained boxes while the other crawlers had gathered, so the appearance now included a ring of +1 constitution and a tacky clip-on emerald-encrusted earring that granted poison resistance. At lvl7 with 12 Con he was the toughest crawler in the room, but he knew that this meant nothing if the others had some good skills or item synergy.

Thomas still looked mostly the same, his casual sweater and jeans combo offset only by the librarian glasses and the single padded shoulder guard that granted +5 Mana and +1 Intelligence. Between the three of them they had also gotten four spell tomes, which Thomas learned. He now had Magic Missile, Fire Fingers, Poisonous fog and Levitate Item added to his repertoire. He was now level 4 with 12 intelligence.

Ben was their weird member. Even with the tiara not visible, he was still a young teen wearing a top hat and a knock-off Dracula cape over a winter jacket while clutching a wicked-looking knife. The new addition of white gloves that looked as if he was going to slap them in someone's face to challenge them to a duel did not help. These spider silk gloves were apparently enabling him to crawl over walls and string sticky wires between two solid points. He was also still lvl4, but as they’d gotten no speed-enhancing items yet his Dex remained at the base 6 he started with.

As the two parties were facing down one another, a fifth crawler emerged from the rooms. This guy radiated a measured amount of aggression that belied his relatively small stature. He was about 1m70, half as broad with as much muscle as he had fat, completely bald and with a pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

Darryl had been in a French mall before, so he recognised the semi-official looking dark clothes as a mall bouncer’s uniform. Because the malls there didn’t hire out of shape mall cops wearing police uniform knock-offs, they hired these imposing men that looked like they belonged in front of a nightclub.

The man made an oversized battleaxe as tall as himself appear out of thin air and casually slung it over his shoulder as he wandered to his party. He somehow made the edgy black and purple cape on his back and the flashy steampunk belt work with his appearance, where the magic items looked utterly ridiculous on everyone else. At lvl6, Raphael R. appeared to be the strongest of his group.

Bouncer wandered over to the free chair of the other group’s table, sat down on it in reverse and leaned on the backrest with one arm while he held his axe with the other. Business suit, who had been sitting opposite of them, stood up again to not be mostly blocked from view by the latest addition of their party. The other two didn’t move, but their body language made it clear that dialogue could now be opened.

“Before we begin, none of you speak French, no?” Mr. Geruet asked with a very heavy French accent.

“Fraid not. English only.” Ben said.

“Same.” Darryl nodded.

“English and Dutch, but unless one of you is Belgian I guess that won’t matter.” Thomas said.

Darryl shot him a quizzical look.

“Didn’t I mention I was Dutch?” Thomas asked. “Well, doesn’t matter. I spoke more English than Dutch before too, so it’s no problem for me.”

“It explains the occasional American in your accent if you’re not native, I guess.” Darryl said. “I was already wondering why you sounded somewhat British like us, only to divert from it on occasion.”

Business suit cleared his throat to draw the attention back to him. “Yes, well… At least we speak some little bit the same language. Now, are you just you three?”

“Yes. You’re the first crawlers we’ve met.” Thomas said.

Mr. Geruet nodded. “I see. Items?”

“For trade, you mean? Perhaps. Is the last member of your group a girl?” Thomas asked, looking at door to the bedrooms.

That question seemed to make Business suit somewhat wary, something he tried to disguise by readjusting his glasses. While Darryl might’ve missed the crack in the man’s calm demeanour had he been by himself, next to him Louis seemed to have noticed his companion’s stress and reacted accordingly. Unlike Business suit, Hoodie clearly showed cautious hostility as he straightened his back and clutched his dagger tight.

Mr. Geruet placed a hand on his shoulder, and Hoodie slumped down into a slouch again. The illusion of careless confidence had shattered though, though none but Bouncer really managed to carry that air successfully to begin with.

Ben: THEY HIDE SOMETHING!

Thomas: We’re armed, possibly with better gear and we’re all in a very confusing situation without the law and society we’re used to. We should all be cautious.

Darryl: I agree. They’re probably just scared.

Ben sighed in real life, rolling his eyes. Around the same time, Bouncer said something with the mildest amusement in an otherwise level tone. From the way that Squire winced at that, they had probably been talking in their chat as well, before one of them broke protocol. Not that it mattered, Darryl couldn’t make out a single word of their language anyhow.

“Uhum! Well, true. Last one is girl, but she’s tired. Let’s not wake.” Mr. Geruet said.

“We do have this item to trade, if they would fit her.” Thomas said.

He nodded to Darryl, who took out the ballerina pointes. They were a good item, if not impossible for any of them to wear, granting a Charisma boost and points in a slew of probably ballet-related skills from Elegant Jump to Tiptoeing, and most importantly they granted immunity to the Dizzy effect.

Mr. Geruet studied the description of the item and was lost in thought for a few moments.

“Something else?” He eventually said.

Thomas took out a pet biscuit, so the Frenchman could get the item’s name in his own language.

“No pets.” Business suit said, shaking his head.

“Then no.” Thomas said. They’d gotten more items from their new boxes before, but all the magical items they equipped themselves and everything else was either basic gear like health potions or junk. “How about you guys?”

Mr. Geruet scrolled through his inventory a bit, but eventually shook his head.

Ben: how about achievements

Darryl gave a thumbs up to Ben for the good idea, and turned back to the other party while the pointes disappeared into his inventory again. “Do you have good achievements?”

“Achievements?” Mr. Geruet frowned.

“We all got a silver box for first entering a Safe Zone.” Darryl said, gesturing to the room around him. “Silver box, nice rewards. Do you have some other good ones?”

Mr. Geruet looked at his companions and spoke to them in rapid French this time, instead of hiding their conversation in the chat. Both Louis and Jean easily conceded with a shrug and words that sounded relaxed and willing.

“Very well.” Business suit said. “We trade achievements.”

“Or share?” Darryl said. “No need to be stingy there, they’re an infinite supply. No limit.”

Mr. Geruet said something in French again, others seeming more reluctant this time. Guess they weren’t the trusting type. But then Raphael said something, the intent impossible to discern from his flat tone, and the others seemed mollified.

“We share achievements.” Mr. Geruet said.

With that, Darryl got a few messages in a new chat. There was some French first, just as alien to them in chat as it was spoken out loud, but after that came a bunch of achievements in Syndicate Common. They were all bronze boxes or no reward at all, and some appeared double.

Thomas: You can select and copy the achievements from your achievement menu and drag them over to the chat. Let’s do that, not sure if they’re unilingual otherwise.

Darryl nodded and dragged the bronze box achievements over, not bothering with the no reward ones. He then looked over at Thomas, who seemed to know what he was thinking and nodded. They both added their silver box achievements as well, with Ben following suit.

The French quickly responded with their own silver boxes, and one gold box. Darryl wasn’t sure, but after some deliberation he chose to send the gold parasite box achievement despite the message it would likely send about him.

“I came in just after another group. They died, and the boss died without me having to deal damage myself. I didn’t let anyone die or used anyone.” Darryl said.

Mr. Geruet looked at him, probably eyeing the bronze star next to his name, but didn’t say anything. The silver villain box he sent before probably wouldn’t help his cause there.

Ben: HOLY SHIT! Their gold box is good!!

Darryl read the description of the gold box they sent, which was indeed a good achievement in terms of replicating it. These guys had apparently decided to beat a mob to death with another mob, getting a gold box for it.

Thomas: Probably not a good idea to try doing that with rats, the AI might decrease the reward again.

Darryl: Squid things? Squishy and decent improvised flail.

Ben: HELLS YEAH!!!

Thomas: Seconded.

“Anything else?” Thomas asked.

Mr. Geruet pondered on the question for a bit. “No.”

“Want to go to a better Safe Zone?” Ben asked. “One that isn’t falling apart and comes with a personal chef?”

The group needed a bit more elaboration and choosing different words before Mr. Geruet got the gist what they were saying, but he shook his head once he understood. “No, we wait here.” He said, throwing a look at the screen that said there were 14 rooms available at the moment.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, as Mr. Geruet didn’t seem like he had anything else to share or ask.

“Do we want to go back there ourselves?” Thomas asked, looking at the other two.

“If the rooms are the same everywhere, I’m fine with staying here.” Darryl said. “Getting rather tired, and no need to snuff any goodwill by leaving again.”

“Right. Goodnight.” Thomas said.

“See you guys tomorrow!” Ben said, getting up. He waved at the Frenchmen and entered the sleeping quarters. Hoodie and Bouncer followed suit, as well as the quiet German man, while Mr. Geruet seemed to be talking to Squire in their chat.

Thomas left a couple of minutes later, while Darryl sat lost in thoughts for a while. For how long he didn’t know, but he shook himself awake just before he drifted away into sleep.

Bidding the two Frenchmen goodnight, Darryl got up and walked to the door leading to the bedrooms. And as fate would have it, a message popped up the very moment he tried to enter.

Thomas: I’ve got confirmation. Be careful, these guys are bad news.