The brunette seemed to be the keener one as she pointed out, "Uh, you have a shield right? …I only see an axe, dagger, and bow."
Well that was quick.
"No, I don't use a shield to tank."
Yep, here it comes.
As soon as the words left my mouth both of the high elf females' faces contorted in that weird way people do when they can't believe what they just heard or saw. Like a comedy unfolding on their faces, I could read it plain as day.
The dejected brunette turned around and walked away with only a tsk.
The blond was a bit more sociable though, "Um, I'm sorry but we need a real tank with a shield to get through the boss fight. You won't be able to tank without one… but good luck!"
I didn't blame them for being cautious.
At the end of the day, most of the players who believed they were "tanks" weren't that great at it. Throw in that bucking typical convention and not gearing the way the masses gear… and well, you're shit out of luck.
People don't respond well to individuality when they don't have a personal reference. For all intents and purposes, if you don't follow "proper" convention you might as well be trash.
No shield, no invite.
That's how most of the players here would treat me.
The worst part was that tanking in general was such a neglected existence. Every party needed one player who could take the aggression and the attacks of the monsters they were fighting. In order to survive that player usually wore the heaviest of armors, thus he would be called the "tank."
But there was no praise or recognition for good tanks, only condemnation for the bad tanks. An unrewarding profession that tended to have more negative preconceptions than it was worth.
Thirty minutes had gone by and I had been rebuffed by twenty-seven parties.
I wasn't sure if there was even a twenty-eighth party to reject me.
I'm pretty sure they all rejected me, already.
Some were quite rude about it, too.
Grabbing my gear, I quickly dumped my sled and excess items off at a room in the inn and paid for a few nights stay. I had already grabbed the two quests pertaining to the First Floor of the dungeon and decided to try my luck elsewhere. At the entrance to the dungeon there were bound to be parties a little more desperate.
Proximity to the goal line has a way of clouding one's judgment.
The closer these parties were to starting the more persuasive having any type of tank would sound, regardless if he or she had a shield. And as I had predicted, relocating to the entrance of the dungeon had proved fruitful, as I ended up waiting thirty-seconds before being courted by a few parties.
Deciding to lay it all out at first to save the trouble, "I'm an experienced tank but new to this dungeon. I do not have a shield but my Health is at 2,100. My defense is also sufficiently high for our levels."
A few people turned around immediately and walked off, but two elves started murmuring amongst themselves. Eventually, they decided to include me in that discussion.
"You say you're experienced, so you've tanked before?"
"Yeah, and I've tanked for years in other games at a high level."
"I see. Your health is kind of high though… did you dump all your stats into Vitality?"
"Nah, I'm a premade."
"Oh, okay. Well, as long as you don't lose aggro, we'll go as far as we can."
Success!
Not a minute after arriving in front of the dungeon I was invited into a party. Screw the people in town who were trying to form the perfect party for an hour or two before ever stepping foot outside. This was how it was done.
Heading inside with them, the black-haired female elf that was talking to me appeared to be the healer of the party. She also had a small crest near her collar, as did the female rogue and both of the male archers next to her. They were of the same design as Ellieby's.
That could prove interesting.
Chapter 39: The First Floor
(Sunday, May 23rd Game Day / Wednesday, February 17th Real Day)
Stepping through the tranquil turquoise barrier that denoted the dungeon entrance was an odd feeling. The warm late spring air and sunlight that was my reality a moment before was soon split by the cold muddy feeling of the barrier. Passing through that barrier, I found myself in a damp, dark dungeon; an old mining complex of sorts.
We were two worlds apart now.
Glancing at the gray and black rock walls that were barely visible as small torches burned along the edges, reflecting and projecting shadows across the domed ceiling, I had a feeling that things might get complicated. As we walked, our shadows appeared to dance around us yet just as quickly disappeared without a trace.
Yeah, the lighting in here wasn't that great.
The dark and dirty brown ground beneath our feet was mostly stable, which led to some general relief as there was no fear of stumbling or tripping. But there were areas that were slippery as moss appeared to be growing sporadically throughout; we would just have to be mindful of where we stepped.
Though of all things, it was the stagnant air filled with ash that was the least bearable. The smoke was difficult to breathe and clouded the eyes, obscuring our already dimly lit visual field even more. But it was a condition we would have to put up with.
With eyes and nostrils alike burning, we pushed forward.
The cave-system with its large open rooms connected by smaller passageways held together with a random assortment of lumber gave off an odd atmosphere. The sizes of the rooms were simply too large compared to the narrow tunnels between them.
Yeah, it was a dichotomy of strange proportions.
And then the echoes came.
Just out of sight and at the edge of our hearing, we could hear the faint chatter of the goblins. Multiple goblins were chattering in broken English for me, and perhaps chattering in a broken language of some other user's preference if selected.
Exiting the second of the narrow passageways and turning around the corner we were presented with our first glimpse of an in-game Goblin. The two [Outcast Goblins] and the three [Minor Outcast Goblins]... weren't fun to look at, really.
The Outcast Goblin was the physically larger of the two, both in stature and in general size. The spade-like ears like those from a playing card were awkward to look at, and overly sized on their four-foot six frame. The oily brownish-beige yet dried prune-like skin only served to complement their exceptionally large goat-like eyes with a large horizontal hourglass shaped pupil, slit-like nose, and disgusting fangs that somehow served as teeth.
They were repulsive.
Not to be outdone, the Minor Outcast Goblin appeared in much the same way but seemed more beige than brown yet barely stood four-feet tall. Considerably smaller with the same sized head. Strangely, this was even more disturbing.
I wanted to smash them into pieces.
Ugh.
To think the designers had created such disgusting monsters as the entry level monsters for players to fight. I feared for the future creature's appearances… they would undoubtedly be mindboggling.
Moving closer to the goblin camp we were soon hit with a waft of a pungent odor that could only be described as a smell of mixed throw-up and urine. I held mine in, but one of the party members gagged and actually puked.
I didn't know we could puke in this game.
But it made sense, seeing as we could do everything else normally.
And I did mean everything.
Setting my axe down against the rock wall, I grabbed my bow and surveyed the scene in front of me. There were five targets, each with a crude short sword of sorts. Our group consisted of two archers and a sword & dagger rogue, plus me with my axe and the healer in the back. An all physical single-target group… not that balanced but it will have to do.