[EV-SP-F29] Outlier | <<Fatal Error>>

[Morningstar 0]

Morningstar, deep in his work, had completely missed Wulfrin leaving the outpost. He scribbled and scrawled vague notes in some strange form of shorthand that even he would have trouble deciphering later. On the ground next to him was a Shambler. It lay so still that one might have thought it dead, but for its shifty bug eyes darting around the room.

He poked it with the tip of his sword, gently so as not to damage it. He was rather proud of his method of capture. Through trial and error, he discovered that Paralytic Venom was an effective and inexpensive form of sedation. It lasted about as long as a stunning sword art might, with the added benefit of dealing little damage to those affected and requiring no replenishment. When paralysis waned, he would lightly stab the mob with Dying Sun to reapply the disablement.

Of course, this meant that he couldn’t leave the outpost. He had guildmates bring him food and drink, whenever he was struck with hunger or thirst, and Willow would visit from time to time to keep him company. His tests were running longer than expected, and so he had not been home in a week.

The Shambler stirred, indicating that it was time for its next dose. He jabbed it a few times until the Paralytic Venom worked its way through the mobs system and reset the timer. The mobs gangly appendages locked up once more, stiff like a sculpture.

“What’s next?”

He checked his notes. Burn, it appeared, was next on the list. An unbuffed burn sword art would not kill the Shambler, he decided, but he would need to give it some time to regenerate afterwards.

Emotionlessly, he stabbed the creature through the torso, his blade igniting just before impact. The Shambler didn’t make a sound, but its health bar ticked down. He made note of that.

BRN apld. Shamblers = no imms., he wrote.

He collapsed wearily in his chair. For a project that was never supposed to exist, Morningstar was happy with his progress--although, the work itself was hardly relevant. So far, his findings were that no common mobs on Floor 29 had any immunities or safeguards besides standard mitigation. The unique abilities found in beings such as Kaajh’Kaalbh, Hokolesqua and the rest were not found in run-of-the-mill monsters. This was good, but it meant that Morningstar had found no patterns or noteworthy discoveries that could hint towards the floor boss.

Still, the undubbed project was a success. Knowing the strengths and weaknesses of mobs was beneficial to both brokers and the everyday player. His notes (if they could be decrypted) would be of value to the guild.

He was preparing for his next test when a “New Quest” panel materialized. It blocked his vision, its shape fragmented and glitching uncontrollably. A high-pitched buzz stung his ears as all of the colours of the rainbow teleported around his field of view, mixing with the crackling fuzziness of a television with no signal. It ate away at his sight until only two words remained in view: FATAL ERROR.

Then, it stopped.

He was sprawled on the floor, panting frantically. His ears rang, the sound of the quest panel lingering in his mind in spite of room’s silence. His chair had toppled over, which caused him to fall, but physically, he was unharmed.

What felt like an eternity had only been a few minutes. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He was suddenly very tired.

Quickly, though, panic set in. In the corner of his eye, where the Shambler was supposed to be, there was nothing.

Tendrils wrapped around his neck, pulling him back to the ground. “Fuck,” he choked, gripping and clawing at them to no avail. They both struggled, but only Morningstar’s health bar moved. In a last ditch effort to save himself, he charged a sword art in his arm and elbowed the creature beneath him.

It fell limp, releasing Morningstar. He stood up, making space between himself and the stunned mob. He retrieved his sword from where it had fallen and in one swing, put and end to his tests.