I was a young archer, still at Eastham beach, probably under my fifteenth level. I ‘d been hunting this strech of sand for a good while and felt fairly comfortable killing the ever present grommies and drudges. On this particular day, I was alone, stretching the limits of my comfort zone. Running along the shore, I worked my way up the beach; passing the hut where folks hang out and buff, the meeting hall that was generally a quiet place for meditation; the eternally empty house where Mostov first gifted me with my Lilitha’s bow. For a long time there was nothing but drudges, grommies and wasps. The occassional golem, both mud and water, were very exciting to reduce to rubble. I was enjoying the lovely sunny day.

Eventually I came upon a house that stirred my curiosity. As I ran toward it, I learned a valuable lesson. Scan your horizons! On the approach up a low hill, a number of interesting monsters appeared on my radar. By the time I registered the baddies and brought myself to a stop, I was surrounded. Happily, my quickness, even then, was admirable; in moments I sped off, swiping the sweat from my brow. My inner lecture about caution reassured me as once more I loped along the beach in search of ~managable~ adventure.

Finally I reached the perfect spot. A number of excellent beasties to keep me busy, in a bunker two portals and shopkeep who would buy the junk I collected. Heady with excitement, I raced out to use my first buff cycle. Immediately surrounded, I panicked and ran into the bunker. I didn’t know a beast could follow me down the stairs! A veteran reedshark on my heels, I leapt into one of the portals…barely catching its name: Mountain Valley Pass.

The portal dropped me at a place completely at odds with my pounding heart. It was a sunlit valley with birds singing and lovely wildflowers swaying in the gentle breeze. It would appear going through a portal will stop a determined reedshark. Looking both ways, I noticed a meeting hall and another bunker. Just as I started in that direction, I was swiped from behind and killed instantly. Back at the life stone I realized that I had no idea where my corpse was and if I went back through that portal, I would die again, just as quickly. I had lost my bow and helm, as well a key piece of jewelry. Deeply disturbed, I considered calling in my patron.

My patron was new to me. I’d met him only days before, sworn to him uncertain it would work out and hadn’t seen him since. His patron, and my grand patron, did hang out in Eastham town a bit, but I knew him even less than my patron. Realizing none of my friends were close enough to help, I bowed to the inevitable and called on my grand patron. He agreed to help in a bit, and arrived at the life stone, announcing his presence with a “Hey you. Where did you die?” I had already told him this information but respectfully filled him in again. He started off in the correct direction without acknowledging my response. We ran all the way to the bunker with little or no talk. Whenever I lost him on the horizon he would stop until I just entered his sight and off he would go again. I did try to engage him a bit by thanking him for his help and asking about the Kalif Zephir that had knocked me off my feet. He did not respond to my questions and comments.

Arriving at the bunker, I showed him which portal I’d entered, and he told me to go through it again. I was concerned. Would the beastie be awaiting my return? Not wanting to leave yet another corpse littering the landscape nor wanting to argue with his directions, I stepped through the portal with sweating hands and eyes closed in a brief prayer. I arrived again to a peaceful scene. Sighing with relief, I turned to watch my grand patron materialize next to me.

“You. Where did you die?” He demanded as he looked around. It was the third thing he’d said to me this entire adventure. I started toward the meeting hall with deep concern, but nothing was about. I went to my body and gathered up my bow, helm and ring. Still nothing stirred.

“Hey, You. Give me all your valuable stuff.” Surprised, I looked at him. Why would he want my things? I fleetingly thought he was going to take my things and leave me to perish alone and defenseless. I wasn’t far wrong. Banishing those thoughts as unworthy at best and downright insulting at worst, I reflected that he was a level 50 archer with little need for my paltry items. I followed his directions. Handing him my bow, helm and jewelry, he continued, “Give me everything you would drop on death.” I just emptied my backpack. Standing essentially naked in front of him and feeling quite vulnerable, I finally worked up the courage to ask him why.

“We cannot go back. It is a long run. You would never survive. Go die.” Shocked I stood there. Had I heard correctly? Had he just told me to go commit suicide? Again, giving him the benefit of the doubt, I considered his words. He said I’d never survive the run back. I truly hadn’t a clue where we were and had never been anywhere other than Holtburg, Rithwic and Eastham in my short time in Dereth.

Looking around I commented, “I see. You plan to have me die and you will meet me back at the lifestone? Surely there is another way?” He was adamant. There was no other way to do this. I ran aimlessly away from him, my mind spinning. Could I trust him? Did I have a choice? As I wandered around, another person arrived in the area. My grand patron recognized him and immediately started chatting with him. To this adventurer, he was verbose, chatting and laughing. I paid no attention to their conversation, as I desperately tried to decide if I should ask for my stuff back and wait for a friend to contact me. Please understand, at this time, I did not know if he was telling the truth. Half of me believed this must be the only way. Also, I did not want to cast a poor reflection on my patron, no matter how new to me. I wanted my patron to take pride in his newest vassal. Balancing this was deep fear and burgeoning rage. Keeping these intense emotions in check and off my carefully neutral face was fantastically difficult.

“Hey YOU!”

“Yes?” I managed through clenched teeth. He was calling to me from the meeting hall where he turned to his friend and said something. They both laughed. I waited. “What are you waiting for?” I noted there was a paucity of baddies about. Did he have any suggestions?

“Yeah. C’mere.” So I did. He friend said good bye and vanished. I looked at him. My eyes were wide, my mouth tense and my nose flared in an effort not to cry out from the raging emotions inside. “There. Go in there.” He was indicating the bunker. I wondered. Was there a portal I could escape through? While I mused, he ran toward the entrance and looked in. “Yeah, he’s there again. Go in there.” I did as I was bid. I was confronted with a humoid type of monster. He had a shield and a sword. He swung at me. I evaded; I couldn’t help it. He swung again. That time it hurt. The third swing caught my leg and I was thrown off my feet. Scrambling backwards, I looked up. There was my grand patron, in the entrance, watching the spectacle. I never saw the final blow.

As I materialized at the lifestone, I was deeply traumatized. Sobbing and shaking, I waited for him to appear. Without much delay, he did. Immediately opening a trade window with me, he returned all of my things.

“You. That all of it?”

Lifting my head, looking at him in the eye, the only thing I coud muster was, “I have a name. Use it.”

He looked surprised and more than a little abashed. Sparing him not another glance, I ran from the life stone to go work my unspent rage, fear and despair on the grommies and drudges of the Eastham beach.