“Hey, I’m just as good as any dwarf around here!” I protested, my face reddening.
“Oh, aye, is that so?” Vargruf grinned smugly. “Alright, then.”
Vargruf went to a cabinet on the wall and pulled out a VR headset. He placed it firmly on his head and went stock-still. Muscles began to twitch all over his body, throat bobbing strangely. Expressions passed across his face.
He must be accessing VR, I realized. Seeing it happen in real life was…well, strange. I didn’t know if this boded well for me or not. So I waited patiently for him to…do whatever it was he was doing. As I waited, Tyrih and Burxten came back, covered in sweat and dust, eyeing me with interest.
“So what does that mean?”
“It means you can’t get something for nothing, lad.” Vargruf spoke, coming out of his VR-induced stupification. “And I had to verify a few things about you and silver weapons.”
“And what’s the verdict?” I crossed my arms.
“Yer gonna need a sigil.” Vargruf looked meaningfully at Burxten. “Give him one of ours. Courier.”
“Yeah boss.” Burxten walked away down the corridor.
“Ya sure?” Tyrih said, looking at me with sympathy.
“I don’t trust him…yet.” Vargruf eyed me. “Ya up for a few tasks before we help you?”
“Uh, sure.” I replied. “But you have to hurry. If you don’t kill him in VR soon…I think you might actually kill him here.”
“Right…” Vargruf pursed his lips. “Well, that’ll be handled by people with more levels than you. All you’d do is get yourself changed. Don’t need another werewolf to deal with.”
“Okay. So the courier job is for…?”
“I’m gonna need supplies for my raid. But I’ve got a problem. All my smiths will be busy crafting silver weapons, because they’re about to spike in market price. Which means before that happens, I need to shore up as much silver and moon ore as possible.”
“Moon ore?”
“The best silver weapons need moon ore. It’s a money sink for end game items.” Vargruf shrugged his broad shoulders. “Don’t ask. I’ll give ya a list and some people to talk to.”
Bruxten came back, the heavyset dwarf carrying some clothes in his gray-haired arms. He handed them to me and also, a clan sigil. I picked it up. It was actually a pin.
“Put that on your shirt, over your heart. It’s a sigil. Designates you as a neutral representative. You’ll be ferrying items to the people I need.” Vargruf said.
“And the clothes?” I asked.
They were clearly for stouter men than I. The tunic-which strongly resembled a muscle tee-was nicely filigreed in geometric patterns and in the forest green and brown of the clan. The cargo shorts were clearly meant for a wider man, but of a nice denim-like fiber dyed dark brown. A pair of socks and proper steel-toed work-boots completed the outfit.
“Clan gear. We wear much less down here, if ya hadnae noticed.” Vargruf grinned and indicated his bulging hairy chest, completely bare of any clothing. “However, the surface dwellers prefer a bit more modesty. Put ‘em on and I’ll pin you.”
Warily, I complied. The shirt hung off me, and the shorts needed a wide leather belt-provided, I noticed-to hold it up. They barely even reached my knees. The boots were clearly for wider feet than mine, and I had to tie them tight too. As I dusted myself off, Vargruf pinned the clan insignia on my chest with a flourish.
I felt a strange sense of pride welling within me. For some reason, being a part of the guild was…right. Like I was home. Vargruf saw my smile and nodded.
“Aye, wear it with pride, lad. Usually takes a lot more ta join my clan, let alone my guild. If you pull up your VR, you’ll see yer quest. When yer all finished with your task, come inform me fer yer reward.” Vargruf said, handing me his VR headset.
“Yes sir.” I smirked and pulled on the headset.
Instantly, I was back in Reborn Venture.
Around me rose the underground dwarven city of Kharn-Adan. I’d only been here once, with Sam, when we were marking all of our fast-travel locations. The entire city had been built inside the bubbling caldera of a volcano-mostly dormant. Through magic, they’d transformed the place into an engine of industry. The forges here were the best in the game, used to craft Legendary items.
All around me were buildings built into the stone itself-some even rose up six stories in height, little stairs zigzagging across the granite and basalt. How I knew what kind of stone they were was beyond me. Probably part of the avatar they’d given me.
A voice chimed in my ear.
"Welcome, user. Forgemaster Vargruf guild pin detected. Applying class template modifications, race modifications, and character age parameters."
I watched my age ticked up slowly to 35 and felt a sudden bout of vertigo as I grew shorter. Across the bottom of the screen green floating text appeared +10 strength, +20 constitution, +10 wisdom, +10 charisma, +10 romantic appeal. Crafting Bonuses Doubled, Mining Speed Increased and my defensive stats rose by a solid +10. An extra 200 Health appeared on my character and suddenly I understood how to defend myself better.
No wonder people wanted to become something other than human, those stat bonuses were no joke! If Sam or myself had been some other race, we might have beaten Mugrel before he even got as powerful as he was now. If the game hadn’t been some kind of transformative honey trap, I would have definitely taken a closer look at other races.
The pin must have changed a lot about me, because I felt myself swelling in my clothes, my avatar shifting as I became a rather handsome, if generic-looking, dwarven Courier class. I’d never heard of that player class, but it had applied a no PVP penalty to me. That would have been a problem if Vargulf expected me to fight the coach, but since he was going to be doing that himself, it wouldn’t be a problem.
I pulled up my character sheet and stared at my model.
My dwarf character was decked out in a guild shirt that was pulled taut across my broad, hairy chest and curved tightly over my hefty gut. My pants were nicely stretched wide by a pair of bulbous buttocks, and my new beard was well-braided with nice gems-nothing too spectacular, rather subdued for dwarves. My face was stern, nose wider and a bit bigger, all my features rather blockier, giving me a ruggedly handsome demeanor.
I flexed a meaty paw and enjoyed the sensations the system gave me. There was a strength there I hadn’t experienced as a human, like I could lift a couple hundred pounds, easy. Despite the minor vertigo caused by my shorter stature, I felt…good. Real good. The bracelet tightened as I thought that and a quiet thrill ran from my arm into my brain. Knowing how much an avatar could change the player, I decided I needed to hurry up and get the information I needed and get out.
“Access quests.” I demanded in a deep, gravelly voice.
Instantly, my HUD appeared. Oddly, most of the options like joining other guilds or leveling up were all grayed out. It didn’t matter, I was only using it temporarily until I was done with the mission. The quest itself was a series of tasks in the real world.
I felt someone from outside the game tugging at my face gently as I studied the task list. It felt nice and made my face and scalp tingle from the ASMR. With a bit of effort, I ignored the delightful sensations and focused on my work orders.
Most of it involved carrying gold to them in exchange for moonstone, silver, and other supplies. The reward was, oddly, Martin himself. I accepted the quest and closed the HUD. Taking one last look at the rather breathtaking clanholm of Vargruf, and wondering what living in one of the basalt apartments might be like, my thoughts disturbed by another pleasant tug on my face.
I exited the game and removed the helmet.
Blinking, I found myself back in the real world and suffered another bout of vertigo as my point of view rose a foot. I ended up staggering into the rather bountiful, fluffy pecs of Bruxten, who caught me with his ham-like arms. I was pressed against his hairy chest and soft belly and found myself breathing his earthy musk. There was another tug on my cheeks and I groaned, still a bit disoriented.
“Ya alright, lad?” Bruxten asked, fingers working something on my face.
“Yeah, I’m-” I felt his thick hands give my cheeks another tug, causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot straight to my cock, which immediately began to harden. With another groan, I glanced down at myself.
Bruxten’s fingers were deftly braiding a plain gold band into my short beard. He was clearly having a bit of trouble, as there wasn’t much hair there. I reached up and gave him a hand, smiling at the handsome old dwarf.
“Thanks.” I blinked, slightly confused. Had my beard even been that long? “Why are you braiding it, anyways?”
“Just making ya look the part.” Bruxten winked. “There, proper an’ handsome. Got yer orders?”
I blushed and nodded.
“Off ya go then, clansman. Gold’s there.” Bruxten gave my ass a slap and indicated a chest. “See to it everything gets delivered.”
Another subtle thrill shot through me when he called me clansman. Being a part of something bigger felt…good, like I was wanted. I pulled myself out of his embrace, cock hard, and got to work. Martin was being lowered from his chains. I patted his shoulder and he looked at me and blushed.
“Good luck, lad.” Martin said, a small smile appearing on his face. “Make the clan proud.”
“I will, and I’ll get you out of this.” I promised and set off.