The arsenal door is set open. I see people leave it, some with a frown on their faces wearing a simple set of shirts and pants. Others are running out with excited smiles, armed and armored to the teeth. I sit close to the wall, waiting for a commotion to stop. I want to talk with Glen alone when he is free, instead of meddling into his affairs with my own problems. The dog on my back remains silent, I heard only soft breathing that tingles my ear, did it fall asleep? I glance at it but it seems to be awake. Its brown eyes look at me, almost as if it understands me. I shake my head, of course, it can't. I wait until the last of the guests leave the arsenal, and enter it. Once desolate cupboards and chests were struggling to contain equipment. I even notice sets of plate steel, something that kings would be proud to wear. Then I notice him, our guild master. He sits on the wooden bench, writing something on the parchment. He sighs and stretches. His tattered cloak and grey hair paint him older than he is. "Glen?" He turns around and smiles, I see bags under his brown eyes and sullen cheeks. Did he work all night? "Oh, Sofa," he says and yawns, "I-I didn't hear you coming." "What is going on?" I ask nodding towards the mountain of weapons they gathered, "Who are these people in the hall?" "Old guild-mates," Glen says as he continues to stretch, "I called them all to see if they want to join the hunt." Then he points at the plate armor, "Or donate their old equipment to the arsenal." "Hunt?" "You didn't know?" seeing my confused expression he sighs, "There's a band of players running around. They're robbing NPCs and killing other players." "I heard of robbery from the guards," I say, remembering yesterday's events, "But are they that strong that you need all this? And how NPCs recognized bandits as players?" Hearing the last question he looks at me with a strange expression, then he mutters under his breath, "NPCs killed one of the attackers." Ah, shit. Glen looks at my horrified face and nods, "The bastards didn't even manage to get a clean hit. They blundered and lost a player. Damned amateurs." He continues to ramble, "Once NPCs recognized their bandits as players they instantly approached me." I shake my head, "But why would they approach you?" Glen chuckles, "They demanded that I should control them." "What." "See, that was my response too," Glen says, with an annoyed look on his face, "They think that all players are under Guild. Or that we should strive to control others." I smile as I see Glen waiting for my response, "Heh, so the guards couldn't stop them and now they are demanding your help? "Basically," he says and sits on the bench. "Remember that the guild meant to make a bridge to connect NPCs and players. And with our dwindling numbers, we can't afford to lose that bridge." "So that's why you are preparing so extensively," I say and take out a steel dagger from the pile. The sharp edge radiates in the sunlight, should I take it, surely he would not notice. "This is will be a demonstration of our strength," Glen declares with surprising zeal. "The guild is still the top dog in this town, and no bunch of PVP junkies will change that." "Can I help?" "We need every player we can get," he says, then he taps the bench. "But are you sure you want to?" I sit at the bench close to him, the dog on my back whines reminding me of my other goal. I take a breather and blurt, "Can I get my monthly healing poultice?" Glen smiles, "Of course," he stands up and walks towards one of the chests. He opens it and tosses the poultice to me. I catch the poultice and observe it. The dense green substance glows gently. I never used it but I heard it was one of the rare magic-like items in the game. Something that can heal wounds almost instantly. "It will be useful in the hunt," he remarks seeing my fascination with it. Ah, should I tell him? I look at my back again, as the dog's eyes lock with mine. I mutter, "It's not for a hunt, it's for the dog." I put the dog on the floor and open the cloak. Glen winces as he sees the broken leg, "I was wondering why you carry him." He kneels and observes the injury, "The leg seems to be broken recently." The dog whines as Glen touches its leg. It looks at me, as I wave of shame hits me, "It was my fault." "I see," Glen says and takes poultice from my hand. He puts his palm on the jelly-like substance and slowly takes it out, it radiates even stronger at rays of sunlight. He puts it on the dog's broken leg and it instantly absorbs it. The dog whines as his leg pop up in a place by itself. "Will it be okay?" I ask, as the dog reluctantly stands up. Glen smiles, "He will be okay." The dog barks and gets up. His tail wiggles as he takes a step forward, then another, and then another. Soon he starts to run around the arsenal, barking in excitement. Then he stops right before me, I see a strange shine in his eyes. "Don't even thin- Before I could even finish a sentence he jumps at me, knocking me to the floor. His tongue starts to lick me as his hot breath and drool fall on my face, eww. I hear Glen chuckling as I try to free myself from this disgusting beast. Suddenly dog stops licking me, as I see a system message pop up before my eyes. The dog asks to be your pet, name him! The message floats before me, as I stand up from the floor. The dog sits before me, waiting for me to say something. Does he truly understand me? It doesn't matter, the dog needs a name, and I have a perfect name for him. "Chaber."