The Butcher of Gadobhra

Bad news first travels up to the top before the shit rolls downhill.

In this case, the bad news was in the form of a message from the AI overseeing the Genesis game, where Alchemarx had invested over a billion dollars. The message was very long, going into details of the contract, behavior of employees, financial responsibilities and reminders about the rules of the game. A battalion of lawyers was already at work contesting the judgment against them, but it was going to be an uphill battle, especially with how the other corporations were delighted with the ouster of Alchemarx from the game world. Four corporations had filed a 'friend of the court' brief immediately, stating that, of course, the rules had to be enforced against such scofflaws.

The meeting today of the Alchemarx board of directors was to gain what knowledge they could from the main culprits who had brought this disaster down upon them. Several layers of management were present, including the head of the online division, the risk management group, the game theory group, as well as many of the personnel who had been working online. The first person to testify was Reginald Haldeman, the manager at the factory farms they were building in the northern part of the Empire. Reggie was furious at the turn of events.

"My numbers have been great, with monthly growth of 23% and projected yearly growth of over 1000%. I've followed the plans that were given to me and focused on making massive infrastructure improvements on some of the best farmland in the Empire. Hundreds of contract workers were working for me day and night."

He paused, but nothing was said, and the chairman waved a hand, encouraging him to continue.

"Sirs, my record speaks for itself. I was brought in to build and manage the Alchemarx assets near Northguard. Under my leadership, the fields were producing a crop every month, and with the farming methods I used, twice the yield per acre compared to local farmers. I mapped out new shipping routes that avoided paying taxes on Imperial roadways and buyers for all of the products we could ship. The buyers we found were directly working against ACME's operation at Sedgewick and Tesladyne's mining operations to the west. They were even paying me a bonus for assisting them. Our profits were so good that within six months, I would have been moving ahead with our overall plan of land acquisition and been a year ahead of schedule. All of our profits were fueled by the operation I built."

Seven men sat at the end of the room. Their desks were two feet higher than the floor, forcing him to look up at them. Reggie had always imagined he'd make it to one of those desks someday. Now, he didn't have a chance in hell. One of them spoke, "And then what happened?"

Reggie tried to stay calm and failed. "My co-workers failed me, and there was nothing I could do, as technically they had seniority on me and were in charge. Against my advice, they made promises to the local Baron that they didn't keep. Something as simple as finding a butterfly for his collection. He came to discuss the matter and was so upset that he brought military forces along. They were very high-level fighters that the reports given to me said he didn't have, and the reports from my superiors also neglected to mention that Baron Pinchpenny is a formidable necromancer. In the middle of the discussion, he signaled his henchman to attack, and they killed me and all of my managers. This would normally be only a minor problem in the game. I'd have been back shortly and reopened negotiations with him. I'm sure we could have worked things out. Except that during the time I was out of the game, those three..." He gestured to a nearby table where three women sat. "...managed to screw up so badly that everything I had achieved for our corporation was used to pay their debts. My operation is bankrupt, and I'm locked out of the game."

Low voices talked for a bit while everyone else held their breath and tried not to be noticed.

"Unfortunate, Reggie, very unfortunate. Sit down. Let's move on to your bosses. I've been told you three had a bad reaction to something in the game that gave you severe stress as you left the game. Too bad, hopefully by now the pain medication and sedatives should have perked you up, so let's get on with it. Irene, you have seniority; I'm appointing you to speak for your group to avoid another waste of my time where you three scream at each other while we sit here and think about what hellhole we're going to send you to. Would you care to explain your actions? "

Irene had taken double the number of pills she was allowed, and her head was still pounding. Bad, but nothing like how she'd felt in the game. The effects of hundreds of resurrection debuffs were crippling and would continue for a very long time.

"The plan was sound and preapproved! We had to improvise parts of it, but everything was OK'd by Risk Management. We nearly toppled ACME's operation. If my requests for funds for additional mercenaries had been granted, the Empire would have seized the city, and we'd have tripled our operation overnight. But every time we asked for additional funding, somehow it went to that weasel, Reggie, who did everything he could to undermine us."

Reggie turned to her with a pained expression. The chairman signaled for him to speak. "You know that's not how it works, Irene. There is only so much in-game money available. You put in requests, and so did I. Then wise people above our heads judge the best use of those funds."

"They didn't have a clue! Your operation was familiar to them, and ours was innovative. I told you to quit putting in requests."

Reggie shot her a quick smile, not visible to the men at the front. "And I told you that taking out huge loans to rent Crystal Balls, Cauldrons, and Spell Books from a demon was dangerous. Had I known what that loan shark was charging you, I'd have filed reports immediately. Did you even send those contracts you signed in blood up the chain of command?"

Gerald from Risk Management stood up and signaled his desire to talk. "Sirs, I had the opportunity to review the original plan for sabotaging ACME by delaying the completion of Rowan Keep. It involved using a mixed army of players and in-game mercenary forces. Funds were made available, both real and in-game. Our forces should have caused enough havoc against ACME's contract workers that little would be accomplished. "

One of the board members laughed. "Let me guess, Acme fought back."

"Err, yes, sir. The plan obviously didn't have the predicted success, even with senior management being in complete control of their own plan. Project reports each week, however, painted a glowing picture and assured a positive outcome. I have to question the validity of those reports at this juncture. However, this...contract..."

He held up a piece of black paper written in red ink. "This is an exact copy of the in-game contract signed by our agents. I specifically use that term since it names them as our agents in the contract they signed."

"Let me see that." Gerald walked the paper to the largest desk where the chairman sat. He stared at it, put on a pair of old-fashioned glasses, and then scanned it and put it on his screen with x13 magnification. "Dear heavens, this is a contract? It's written in a typeface so small it's unreadable! The letters aren't all the same size, and the font changes constantly. Some of the letters and numbers are flipped backward. This is a nightmare to read, let alone understand. It's a masterpiece!"

"Legal thought so as well and are incorporating some of the innovations we see here into our own contracts. Legal was also disappointed that we couldn't hire the person who wrote it."

The chairman made one last attempt to read the contract, then handed it back. "Yes, I can see our legal division wanting that. What the hell does it say?"

One of the lawyers present stood. "In summary, these three, acting as agents of the corporation borrowed for a set period of time several Legendary magical artifacts from a demon known as Impkray. Alchemarx assets in the game stood as collateral. At the end of the time period, a large sum of gold was due, along with the return of the borrowed artifacts. Irene's team failed in their mission, did not have the funds available to cover the debt, and somehow also lost the artifacts, incurring a huge penalty fee. Normally, the land and goods controlled by Mr. Haldeman would have covered the debt, but because of Irene's failures, those assets weren't available, having been repossessed by the original owner. This lead to seizure of remaining assets and bankruptcy." He sat down.

The chairman brooded.

"Demons, cauldrons, and loan sharks! What the hell, Irene? Did you forget how to make money? I'll give you a hint: It doesn't involve high-interest-rate loans with predatory penalties! And you idiots...why do I have a Risk Management team that didn't see this coming? Screw it, you're all fired, the lot of you. And everyone else in our Online Division along with you. We can't do business, so we don't need you. The legal teams can keep their jobs if they can find a way out of this mess."

Most people weren't shocked at all. When the shit hit the fan, heads rolled. Reggie was already thinking about his options and how to spin this into a new job. The Family and Symtech were always hiring, and even ACME might be an option. The voice of the chairman stopped him as he went to leave.

"Not you, Reggie, sit your ass down. I might have a use for you. But I think we'll deal with our Witches first. There's still a job for you in Alchemarx, but I think we'll be adjusting your position. Think of it as a generous rehabilitation program. Part of Alchemarx's debt is listed as 'Infernal,' and I've been told it's a result of some sort of magical shenanigans you caused. It requires employees of Alchemarx to be in the game and endure the consequences until our debt is paid. I know just the three people who are going to handle that."

The three Witches, suffering from migraines, knew that what waited for them in the game was much worse. Irene drew herself up and stood as straight as she could; the other two put their heads down and wept. "You can't make us. We quit."

"Oh, you can quit, certainly. And I will invoke some very nasty clauses in your contracts. Not to mention the legal consequences of filing false reports. Our lawyers will sue you for every dime you have, and our security guards will hand you over to the authorities for embezzlement. You'll be lucky if you get out of jail in a decade and can get a job in a habitat fixing sewer pipes. We all know you're smart enough to avoid jail time, especially over a little vacation in a silly game. Off you go, ladies. We have a nice room waiting for you where you can sign some papers before you go back to your pods."

After the three weeping ex-vice presidents were escorted away and the rest of the board left, only Reggie and the chairman remained. He waited long enough for Reggie to start sweating and then lit a cigarette and smoked it half down. "You're a weasel, Reggie, but an effective one. You covered your little errors well. Small things like cheating your Baron out of his cut. It was small potatoes to make him a little happier. Remember that next time. But it wouldn't have mattered in the long run. ACME is still around, and our agreement with Pinchpenny is voided. But you were headed in the right direction, so we're going to give you another chance. Don't make small mistakes this time, Reggie; we'll be watching you closely."

Hope sprang up, but also puzzlement. "I was under the impression we can't do business for seven years."

"We can't; you're correct on that point. Or rather, Alchemarx can't. But Blevins Cough Syrup is in the game, with one little village and twenty-five contract workers. They aren't doing so well in either world. Alchemarx bought Blevins eleven minutes ago, and we are putting you to work in that little village with a new character. We've cleared it with the Genesis People. You'll be down South, in the breadbox area of the Empire. Far from the main markets but with a regular trade route North. Work your magic again, build up, and buy up the area. We aren't out of the game yet."

The room was quiet tonight, for dire tidings had come from the Northlands:

"The Tribes of the Silver Axe have fallen in battle to the encroaching horde of Dire Trolls, Blood Goblins, and Dark Spawnlings. General Ironjaw has appeased the Hell-Drake Anthraxies with a wagon of treasure and a hundred captives taken in the fall of the Elven City of Frostfire. The alliance of tribesmen fought hard, but they hadn't counted on fighting a Dragon from the Fallen Times."

As the Great Bard spoke, his eyes gleamed. He looked at each hero seated at the ebony table. They had feasted and feasted well, but the cost of that feast was hearing the horrible news and being asked to do something about it.

"His majesty marches forth, but the army is small, and many of the treacherous nobility have held back their support. The king cannot prevail on a field of battle when the other side has a dragon! But there is one hope..."

Everyone tensed, waiting for what they knew was coming. "...one thin hope that hangs like a gossamer thread. Within the Tower of Wintertide is the Staff of the Wyrm King. If a brave group of adventurers could retrieve the staff in time and bring it to the field of battle, Anthraxies could be compelled to fight for the King. How say you, assembled heroes? Will you take up this quest and..."

On the table, a ringing sound came from a glowing skull, and its eyes flashed brightly. The Great Bard reached for it, annoyed, and pushed a button. "This is Willy. What's up? I hope you remember that it's one of my game nights. This better be major news."

"Very good news, boss. Alchemarx has been kicked out of the game world. They were in a war with our northern region manager and causing him some problems. He fought back. They took out loans to cover the costs of hiring people in the game but got their ass kicked. They can't pay; they're bankrupt and gone. The AI kicked them out for seven years."

Willy raised his other arm over his head, made a fist, and shouted, "Victory!" Then slammed the skull down on the table, took a sip of his diet coke, and turned back to his game.

"Why the hesitation, Heroes? Will you accept the quest?"

Everyone nodded their acceptance or raised a glass. Willy passed around the Quest Agreement, printed on crinkly parchment he had specially made for all of his games, and they all signed it using red ink and old-fashioned quill pens.

At the end of the table, Ricardo was trying to control his curiosity. He still hadn't made it to the area controlled by Billy. The teleportation system in the Empire was near collapse, and even spending Vern's gold had only gotten him to Wolfsburg. He and his guildmates had been forced to ride overland to Sedgewick along crappy, muddy roads. The snow hadn't helped, nor had the constant annoying attacks by blue-skinned Nomadic Trollkin. Ricardo and his group were heading North, while the little trolls were heading in the opposite direction. They were only level 6 to 10, but a group of twenty of them was a problem even for a tier four group. They would would finally arrive in two days, if the weather held up, and the weather had become unpredictable with frequent ice storms.

His group had grumbled about the bad luck of missing a small war but were looking forward to what might be an even bigger event. They were slowly progressing through a quest line that started when they killed their first trollkin. They took a vote and decided to fight against Winter. Every encounter gave them additional experience if it was part of the war. Around the table, the rest of his group shared a few looks and nods. As soon as Willy's game was over, they would head to their pods for a marathon session, spending all weekend in Genesis. If Billy had managed a big win against Alchemarx, Vern was going to be on a rampage, wanting to know how he'd done it.

"Now that you have signed the quest agreement let me warn you of some of the obstacles you will face on your journey to the Tower of Wintertide. It seems that the fae are upset about rampaging goats in their lands and have asked for the aid of anyone who wishes to pass through the Glade Lands. You will need to tame the Wild Gruffs and take them with you because the Scorn Giants of Bitter Tooth pass have filled the only path with Prickle Death Vines...."