Gunnar slept for four hours. When he woke, a couple of the Cryptids were rousing, but most were still passed out on the floor. His body was a little stiff, but the rest had been enough to restore his Stamina to normal.

His last few days had been so chocked full, it was nice to just lay there for a moment. He had an hour before he was supposed to meet Sheira, so he spent some time mulling over his stat sheet.

Gunnar Ashwood

Glory: Level 15

Servant of Nymoria

Coins: 86

Character Traits

Race: Dusk Elf

Clan: Maldan

Class: Rogue (Rank - Initiate)

Guild: Nighthawks (Role - New Recruit)

Other Factions: Cryptids (Role - Founder)

Character Stats

Health - 135/135

Stamina - 125/125

Mana - 155/155

Physical Attributes

Strength - 10

Dexterity - 14

Agility - 9

Constitution - 9

Mental Attributes

Intellect - 9

Wisdom - 10

Charisma - 9

Creativity - 6

Physical Skills

Endurance - Level 9 (+25 Stamina Buff)

Throwing Blade - Level 16

Slashing Blow - Level 8

Parry Blow - Level 12

Head-Butt - Level 6

Enhanced Blow - Level 10

Sheer Strength - Level 8

Wall Climbing - Level 8

Pickpocketing - Level 14

Lockpicking - Level 12

Stealth - Level 8

Stealth Attack - Level 5

Mental Skills

Perception - Level 20

Mindful Breathing - Level 6

Art of Diplomacy - Level 11

Active Items

Basic Dark Cloak (+10% Stealth)

Stealth Boots (+10% Stealth)

Leather Vambraces (+10% Resistance to Damage)

Leather Greaves (+10% Resistance to Damage)

Inactive Items

Lockpicks (2)

Spell Scrolls (2)

Shooting Star (1)

Spells

Scan - Level 20

Dark Sight - Level 8

Mindful Moment - Level 9

Call of the Wild - Novice-level Bond

Gunnar pulled up some of the individual skills to refresh on which attributes they were tied to, and found that stealth-related skills relied on Agility.

All in all, his attributes were fairly well-balanced, except his abysmal Creativity and high Dexterity, but considering the limitations due to his attributes and developmental ratings, he was pleased with all he’d accomplished.

Between his experience and his attribute points, he’d managed to advance everything quite a bit in the days since he’d arrived in Pantheon. And so far, he hadn’t encountered any Creativity-based skills, so he didn’t see the need to worry too much about that. Though it would probably come in handy if he were to learn to craft his own Spellshot.

Maybe he would feel differently later, but for now, Azmar had emphasized Stealth. So he applied both his unused attribute points to Agility, sending five stat points to both Stealth and Stealth Attack.

He was so engrossed in analyzing the holographic windows in front of his vision, he jolted when a voice broke the silence of the crypt.

“Mr. Ashwood, sir, can I—”

Gunnar sat upright in an instant and dismissed his HUD.

“Sorry!” Grippa said with a laugh, kneeling beside him. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you must’ve seen me come over.”

Gunnar shook his head. “You just have a loud voice from a few inches away. Er, what can I do for you, Grippa?”

“Well, you see, I’ve been put in charge of the crypt store room. I’ve been looking over our Inventory.” Grippa pulled up a window with an itemized and categorized list. “I believe there are some items we may want to acquire very soon in order to achieve our short term goal of making this place into our faction’s base. I know we’re laying low for the time being, but—”

“When did you have time to look over our Inventory?” Gunnar asked impressed as he scrolled through the exhaustive Cryptid supply list.

Grippa shrugged. “I am not one for drinking and parties.”

“I guess not. You included all the items that were in the store room before, all the hobos’ stuff too. This is great.”

“And some proposals for how we might distribute things going forward. After seeing everyone fight, I’ve got an idea of preferred weapon choices, and I know a bit about several of the other slaves from the ship already, so I’ve got another list of suggested roles for faction members, though we’ll need Cork’s input about the slaves, and of course yours as well.”

Gunnar grinned. “This is great, Grippa. Bring this to the council meeting this afternoon, and we can go over everything.”

“I’m, sorry, but there are some crucial items we ought to take care of before that,” Grippa said. “Tools being the biggest one, if we are going to build huts and cots and that sort of thing. We have weapons, but I don’t know if we could even chop down a tree with what we’ve got. I’d like your permission to venture into the city today to make some acquisitions.”

“You’re a council member, Grippa. People need to look to you for permission, but you don’t need mine to do things if they’re in the interest of the faction.”

“Thank you, sir. I still felt it would be best to consult you.”

“I trust your judgment,” Gunnar said. “I’d stick to the western part of the city. Seems like Red Cloak patrols are lighter in that area. I get the impression that the traders are less in Imperial pockets there as well.”

Grippa nodded. “Very good, sir.”

“And hey, don’t call me sir anymore. My name’s Gunnar.”

“Right, okay, Gunnar.”

“I’m heading out of the city. Why don’t we go together? We can part ways once we’re in the city.”

“Very good, sir. As far as payment for the supplies goes, should I—”

“Use money from the faction money pool. That’s what it’s there for. You should have Council access to it.”

He and Grippa ventured to the back entrance of the crypt. Gunnar had never used this one before. Rather than journeying through the storeroom, he continued on down the main corridor of the crypt. There were a few more rooms and narrow passages branching off, but it wasn’t very long before they reached a dead end except for a lone stone door. As they ventured, his MiniNav updated his Discovery status on the crypt, mapping the entire place.

Grippa opened the heavy door easily, and they stepped out into a back alley near the center of the city. They were not far from Luka’s temple. The spires towered over the rest of the city, and Gunnar wondered what the place looked like inside. From out here, it struck him as the sort of place his mother would have loved to tour. She had always appreciated cathedrals, even though his family hadn’t been particularly religious.

Sometimes she would go to the cathedral downtown and just sit in the pews for a while. One of the only places in the city where I can clear my head, she would say.

The thought sent a pang of sorrow through him. He wondered what his parents thought about what had happened to him. The memory had begun to come back of his very brief court appearance before arriving in Grid Eight, though most of it was pretty hazy. The only thing that really stood out in his mind was his mother’s face across the room. Not sad. Not angry. She was in shock.

Oh, how he longed to know what had really happened. Why had Lex been here? Why had she been killed right before he was able to get any answers? Would she turn up again?

But for now, he just had to keep at what he was doing. Keep ascending. Keep trying to figure out his next move.

“Are you all right?”

They’d gone down a couple of side streets, but now, Grippa paused, looking back at him with remarkably compassionate eyes for a mountain orc.

“Yeah, sorry,” Gunnar said. “Just thinking.”

“About the real world?”

“Er, how did you know?”

“Players get that look sometimes. Least the ones from… you know, where we come from.”

Gunnar nodded. “Do they come from somewhere else?”

Grippa shrugged. “If they don’t now, they will soon, right? We’re just guinea pigs.”

“Right,” Gunnar said. “Not supposed to talk about that, right?”

“I’ve been here a long time,” Grippa said. “Wouldn’t be able to tell from my level, but you know how things get stacked down here. In my experience, they don’t care if we talk, so long as we keep it vague. No sharing true identities or grid numbers and that sort of thing.”

“Oh. Guess I’ve just tried to play it safe. With that, anyway.”

Grippa smiled. “I get it. But we’re here a long time. You don’t have to talk to me. But I miss the outside world too, sometimes.”

“You know what they say, right? Every prisoner thinks they’re innocent?”

“Not me, my friend.”

“You dream of getting out?”

Grippa shook his thick muzzle. “Afraid that won’t happen for a damn long time.”

Gunnar was not sure how to respond.

“I did something unspeakable, Gunnar. I deserve to be in this place. A guinea pig is as good a life as I can ask for. But I promised myself, I’d do better in this second life. Reckon that didn’t help my way in this world, but so it goes.”

“So it goes.”

“You think you’re innocent?” Grippa asked as they neared a market, which was beginning to bustle with the morning.

“Don’t remember much of that night,” Gunnar said. “Let’s just say, I’d give anything for my memories to be wrong.”

Grippa patted his back.

“We have much in common, then. You are building something good down here, Gunnar. That’s why I stay. That’s why we all do.”