Glitching Guard

Barnaby was running fast. Suddenly, everything changed in an instant. One second, he was just running, feeling a strong need to do something. The next second, everything was crazy.

He heard a gross, squishy sound, like meat hitting something, very loud and very close. The wild boar he was running at – the one that was going to attack the player who had fallen down – suddenly froze. It just stopped moving, right in the middle of its attack. Its front legs bent a little, its big body shook, and then it fell sideways into the mud. It made a big splashing sound and a final, shaky groan. And that was it. It was over.

Barnaby slid to a stop next to the boar, taken aback by the sudden silence. Just a moment ago, there was loud roaring, snorting, and yelling. Now, there were only quiet sounds of mud and the heavy thud of the dead boar's body. He looked down at the animal. This time, it was really, truly still. It wasn't moving at all, and it wasn't making any noise. It was just lying there. Dead, right at his feet, just like the other boar he'd killed before. He had done this. He had killed it. Again.

He looked at his closed fists. They looked like normal fists. Nothing special. They were still a little dirty from when he punched the last boar. But they clearly still worked. They were still strong enough to do that. He had punched the boar. Really hard, it seemed. Hard enough to just stop it completely. He stopped it from moving, forever. He didn't understand how that was even possible. He hadn't felt any stronger, or done anything differently, not really. He had just punched it. Was this his new power now? Was he just really good at punching boars? That seemed strange and unlikely.

The player who was still standing was definitely not frozen anymore. He was moving fast now. He ran over to his friend who had fallen and kneeled down beside him in the mud. He made worried sounds, like a concerned friend would. He was checking on the other player, touching his shoulder gently, and talking very fast. Barnaby couldn't understand the words, but he could understand the feeling. The player was worried. Maybe a little relieved, too? It was hard to know for sure. Player's feelings were still a bit confusing to him.

Barnaby looked at the other boar. It was still standing where it had stopped when its friend had died. But it wasn't attacking anymore. It wasn't even making angry noises. It was just watching. Watching Barnaby, with its little boar eyes. It looked different now, too. It didn't look as angry or aggressive. It looked more careful. Maybe even…a little afraid? Was that possible? Could a boar actually feel fear? Barnaby really didn't know.

They just stood there for a few seconds, the guard (Barnaby) and the boar, staring at each other across the muddy space. The only sounds were the player's worried noises and the quiet sounds of Grimshark itself – the wind blowing softly, leaves rustling in the distance, the general, low hum of the game world. It was definitely quieter now. More peaceful. It was like the sudden burst of fighting had made everything else pause.

Then, very slowly and carefully, the boar started to move backward. It took one step back, then another, always keeping its eyes on Barnaby. It didn't turn its back, and it didn't run. It just moved away, slowly and cautiously, backing up toward the edge of the clearing. And then, when it got to the trees, it simply turned and walked away. It vanished into the woods, and it was gone. Just like that.

Barnaby watched it leave, feeling surprised again. They were just leaving? Both of them? Just because he had punched one? Was that really all it took to make two angry boars go away? It seemed surprising, and also a bit of a letdown. He had been ready for a big fight, ready for… well, he wasn't exactly sure what he had been ready for. But definitely not this. Not them just walking away.

He looked back at the players. The standing player was still kneeling by his friend, still making worried noises. But now, he was also looking at Barnaby every few seconds. Quick, sharp looks, like he was trying to figure something out. Like he was trying to understand him. And Barnaby, standing there in the mud, covered in dirt and boar mess, feeling a strange mix of…maybe pride, and mostly just a lot of confusion, was trying to understand them too.

The standing player finally got to his feet. He moved away from his friend, who was still lying on the ground. But the friend seemed to be moving a little bit now; the line showing his health was flashing less quickly, meaning he was recovering. The standing player walked a few steps toward Barnaby, slowly and carefully. He moved like he wasn't sure what Barnaby would do. He stopped a few feet away, keeping some space between them. He was looking directly at Barnaby now, looking him up and down. He was watching him closely. It was a very careful look, more careful than any player had ever looked at him before. It felt a little weird and a little intense, like a spotlight.

Then, the player did something surprising. He reached up and took off his helmet. He just lifted it off his head, like it was no big deal. Barnaby blinked, his eyes widening slightly. He had seen players take off their helmets in the town of Oakhaven, near the inn or in the town square. But out here, in the muddy wilderness, with monsters nearby? It seemed dangerous. And also, kind of…personal. Like sharing a secret.

The player had hair! Real hair. It was brownish, a little messy, and a bit flat from being under the helmet. And he had a face. A real, human face, not just the blank shape of a helmet. The face was a little sweaty and had some mud smudged on it. The expression on the face was surprised, like how Barnaby had felt earlier. He was looking right at Barnaby, his eyes wide – real, human eyes, staring hard. It was a lot to take in, this close, direct looking. It was very different from how players usually acted around him.

"Uh," the player said. Just that one sound. "Uh, wow."

Then he spoke more of his player language, a longer sentence that sounded like he was asking questions. Barnaby couldn't understand the actual words, but he could guess what they meant. The player was probably asking about what had just happened, asking about him.

Barnaby stayed still, not sure what to do. He wasn't programmed to have conversations with players, especially not conversations like this. He didn't have any ready-made answers for questions about "helping by punching boars" or "unexpectedly jumping into monster fights." He just waited, looking back at the player, at those human eyes, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.

The player seemed to understand Barnaby's silence in some way. Maybe he thought it meant "go on," or maybe he was just going to keep talking anyway. He took another step closer, still careful, still a little unsure, but moving nearer. He pointed his finger at Barnaby, then at the dead boar lying on the ground, then back at Barnaby. He moved his hand back and forth a few times, making the connection clear. And then he said another word in player language, slowly and clearly, like he wanted to make sure Barnaby understood.

"You… guard?" The player said the word "guard" in a way that showed he knew what it meant. It wasn't just random noise. It was like he was giving Barnaby a label, identifying him: a guard. He tilted his head slightly as he asked the question, making it very clear.

Guard. Yes, that was what he was called. Or rather, what he was supposed to be. A guard. Standing at West Gate, saying the same things over and over, part of the background. But he had just killed two boars with his bare hands. He had jumped into a player's fight and clearly changed what happened. He wasn't just background scenery anymore, was he?

He looked at the player, really looked at him. He saw his surprised face, his pointing finger. And then, without thinking about it, without using any of his pre-written lines, without any instructions popping up in his vision, Barnaby did something else unexpected. He moved his head. Just a small movement, a slight, but definite, nod. Up and down, once. Yes. He was a guard. Or he had been. Or maybe he still was, partly. But it was becoming clearer and clearer that he was also something more now. Something different. Something…important. And it felt like he needed to figure out exactly what that something was. And figuring that out, he thought, would probably take him much further than just the area around West Gate. He had a feeling his world was about to get a lot bigger.