JorgensonIII was the first of his crew to login. As expected their Viking knarr, the LongJohn, was about an hour away from shore and dawn. The NPC oarsmen made no reaction to his sudden appearance. They merely continued to move the oars back and forth as if they themselves hadn’t just materialized along with the ship moments before Jorgenson had. Jorgenson walked to the back of the sixteen-meter ship to their only cargo, a wooden chest. Opening it revealed thousands of gold coins and several pieces of gem studded jewelry. Most of it had no real value. In Plundered World one found or stole chests, then sold them for a measly few hundred gold. The only thing with any real value was a single sapphire tucked away under a couple of coins in the back-right corner of the chest.

That little gem represented Jorgenson’s worst fear. A job he couldn’t refuse. Certainly not with his family’s debt. Jorgenson’s great-grandfather had died in the asteroid mines for the debts his weakness had brought upon the family. His grandmother would soon follow and with his father now too sick for the debt collectors to bother with, Jorgenson would be next. The rest of his existence spent paying off an unpayable debt.

Jorgenson had never been one to take things lying down, though. When he found out about the AI controlled VR game called The Plundered World, and how both black-market dealers and legitimate businesses used it as a platform to safely transport all sorts of information from cutting edge software to financial data and even genetic information, he saw his chance to fight. Fight and live.

So, he played the game, looted, and laundered. When his levels were high enough and had the right connections, he gathered a crew he could trust, had a ship built and found himself a comfortable niche on the black-market. A knarr wasn’t a warship, its job was to ferry people to war, and that was the point. Most thought it because, with his blonde hair, blue eyes and thick beard, he looked like a Viking. The truth was that he just wasn’t looking for a fight. With a ship like the Longjohn the only jobs Jorgenson and his crew could get were the ones where a fight wasn’t on the horizon. That was the reputation he’d earned, and that reputation was what he counted on for those few occasions when he needed to move something worth fighting for. Jorgenson could have gotten a warship. He could have taken risks. Fought battles he didn’t need to fight. He could have challenged those who were more powerful than him. Just like his great-grandfather he could have gambled everything on the chance to have nothing. JorgensonIII did not take unnecessary risks.

When a black-market broker he’d worked with for years offered him a white-market job Jorgenson told him where to shove it. Only the top seven alliances were allowed to do white-market jobs. The Seven were the only ones strong enough to do those jobs. Apparently, the job was more grey than white, but Jorgenson didn’t care. Even if they didn’t end up permanently s**t-listed with the Seven, if they failed to deliver then it would place him and his crew into an inescapable hole no matter how many generations passed, and that was the best outcome. Jorgenson wanted nothing to do with this job and said so before getting up to leave, but the broker had one more thing to add. The price.

It was too much. With that much Jorgenson could get out of debt, bring his grandmother home and get his dad the treatment he needed. His whole crew would be free of their own personal hellholes of debt. He had to make it work.

“Where does it need to go?” he asked the broker he knew only as Border69Lust.

“Straight from here to the northwest corridor of the Al Caliphate continent.” Border replied.

“Griefer territory?” Jorgenson stopped Border69Lust before he could try and placate him with false assurances. “It’s fine. Getting past the Griefers will be a lot easier than the others.”

Border69Lust wasn’t as sure about that but said nothing. He’d work with JorgensonIII for years now and knew that the man took no risks. He knew JorgensonIII would eliminate those risks before he ever left dock. So, Border69Lust was understandably surprised to hear Jorgenson’s next questions.

“How long would it take to let them know I'm coming? Especially without telling them that I’m the one telling them.”

After making all the necessary arrangements Jorgenson returned to his ship and ordered his twenty-five crewmates to set sail for the Al Caliphate continent. Since the game's mechanics allowed for a ship to continue sailing along their plotted course when its crew was offline Jorgenson told his men to log off till they reached the Al Caliphate. Offline travel only worked on the blue ocean and stopped about an hour away from shore, but Jorgenson wanted to give the Griefers a chance to gather so he gave them a couple of extra hours.

Griefers were the bane of gamers throughout all of VR and the Plundered World alliance proudly lived up to that. They were a new alliance only having been formed ten years prior. Then four years ago they took things to the next level. They viciously attacked the seventh strongest alliance, the Peg Legs, they attacked their bases when they were undefended and raided the Peg Legs fleets while they were on jobs. They did everything they could to force them out of business. Of course, given the nature of their work this resulted in more than a few real-life deaths for the Peg Legs. Not that many cared at the time, the Peg Legs weren’t exactly saints themselves, but in the aftermath of the Griefers rise to power many lesser alliances would find themselves facing the Griefer’s guns. Often simply for kicks. Every now and then the Griefers would choose an alliance, usually one that was carrying plenty of sensitive cargo, and systematically hunt them all down till enough of them were either unable to support themselves, arrested for outstanding debts, or killed IRL for failing to deliver cargo. At this point even the other six top alliances considered them parasites although they had yet to work up enough interest to do anything about them.

Still the other six alliances wouldn’t care much if a few Griefer ships sank and they had brought quite a few to meet JorgensonIII and the crew of the Longjohn. About fifteen minutes after making sure their cargo was secure his first mate Oneyed Python and the rest of his crew logged in. Looking at them all Jorgenson couldn’t help but take note how much they all looked like actual Vikings and it wasn’t just because they were just dressed like them.

Although actual Vikings probably weren’t as diverse as his crew was and Jorgenson said so. “We look like a we overdid it on the diversity hires.” They laughed even though it wasn’t that funny. They were all nervous about what was ahead, and they appreciated the attempt at humor.

Soon enough the cliffs of the Al Caliphate came into view, but with the thick fog the only part of it Jorgenson could see was the very top, he couldn’t even say for sure where the entrance to the river that would take them to their final destination was. He had expected the fog; Plunder’s weather pattern was nothing if not predictable. Apparently so had the Griefers who slipped half out of fog so as to get a clear shot on the Longjohn. Once satisfied they dropped their anchors and furled their sails. Normally this might have been taken as a good sign except the Griefers mostly employed bomb ketches and rocket vessels. Both types of ships had few guns, no more than twelve in total, but what made them dangerous was the mortars and flaming rockets they shot from their bow. Dropping anchors and furling sails was so that they could stabilize their ships and aim better. The rockets and mortars weren’t terribly accurate even once the ship was stable, but with enough of them to blanket an area it was only a matter of time before enough of them hit to set the ship aflame. It wasn’t usually necessary to scuttle an enemy ship but with ketches and vessels there wasn’t usually any other outcome.

Jorgenson counted three ketches and three vessels with a carronade frigate anchored between them. Which was one frigate short of a standard complement of ships for the Griefers. Using the ketches and vessels they could sink ships from a distance but since they were weak at close range with only a few guns for defense the carronade frigates, which were overpowered close-range monsters, would circle around and blast away any ships that managed to get too close. The fact that their only frigate now sat anchored and furled in the middle of their formation was an insult that hadn’t gone over Jorgenson’s head.

The joke was on them as their first volley missed the Longjohn completely. The knarr was a lot smaller than their usual targets. Still they landed close enough that the mortars explosive shells blasted water onto the Longjohn and Jorgenson could hear the dozen or so flaming rockets sizzle as they hit the water. No one was fooled into thinking that the second volley would miss.

“Where the hell are they?” Oneyed demanded as one of the last mortar shells landed just off their portside, dowsing him with water and knocking the ship slightly off course.

“Right where they should be.” Jorgnson calmly replied as he gazed toward the Greifers with his spyglass. Except it wasn’t the Griefers he was looking at, but the hundreds of arrows that were about to rain down on them. They were spread across the fleet but fell most heavily on the frigate, killing or maiming most of the NPC crew. The few players on board each ship had enough health and armor to survive the hail of death and immediately started unfurling their sails and raising their anchors, but a second volley, this time with flaming arrows, rained down on them. In Plundered World regular arrows had a high chance of hitting players, but flaming arrows not only tended to be more visible, and thus more easily avoided. but less accurate as well. Of course, since that meant they landed directly on the wooden ships that was just as well.

Fire was the bane of any ship as it not only spread easily and destroyed sails, but if it reached the powder room the entire ship would be blasted to smithereens. Jorgenson imagined that for ketches and vessels the resulting explosion would be extra spectacular and ordered his mean to give them a wide berth.

As he continued to look through his spyglass Jorgenson saw more ships coming through the mist on either side of the Griefers. The first he recognized as kobaya. Kobayas were oar driven vessels with a raised platform in the front and four banners at each corner of the ship. On board there was a squadron of NPC samurai armed with matchlock rifles called the arquebus. Usually they would be placed evenly on both sides but in this instance, they were placed on whichever side faced the Griefers in a double volley formation.

There were two kobayas on each side of the griefer fleet and they fired continuously, tearing apart NPCs, players and even knocking holes in the ship itself. They didn’t stay on the sides but instead continued on around to the front of the Griefer’s formation. Once in place they dropped anchor and continued their assault from the front. Meanwhile another four ships came around on the sides except this time they stayed where they were. These ships were cannon bune a box like oar driven ship that used thick bamboo for their walls and a roof that went across the whole thing. It had only four light cannons on each side but as the Griefers were too busy putting out fires and dodging bullets, it was more than enough.

While all this was going on Jorgenson and his crew sailed on by. As the fog cleared Jorgenson saw one more ship sail up behind the frigate. By this time most of the Griefers on the flanking ships were dead but the crew of the frigate had not only managed to survive but had begun to regroup. Their warlock had even managed to heal and resurrect most of their NPCs. However, the new arrival had something to say about that.

It was basically a floating fortress. Thirty-six meters long and three stories high, not including the two- and three-story towers on top, it was truly built like an ancient wooden castle. That floating castle was the Nihon Maru and the strongest of the ships introduced in the Sengoku Jidai DLC.

It was also the flagship of the Lament of the Samurai alliance. They'd been around for the last couple of years and the jobs they took were either protection work or assisting in raids. Sengoku ships on the other hand weren’t anything new although they were one of the last DLC added, but apparently when they were added three hundred years ago they garnered a bad reputation because they required different skill trees and resources, and because they were mostly for boarding actions, with few if any cannons, many saw them as worthless.

That hadn’t deterred Shogunhime, the leader of Samurai’s Lament. She had gathered so many players and Sengoku ships so quickly that many figured she had corporate backing of some kind, but nothing had ever been proven. Certainly no one could figure it out from the clients she took. The jobs her alliance took were many and seemingly for no other reason than because of her whims. Jorgenson knew better. Anyone who had actually met her knew better. If Jorgenson had known she was going to be a part of this, he might have thought twice before contacting Weeaboo97.

Jorgenson had known Weeaboo since his early days playing Plundered world, long before he had gathered a crew and had the Longjohn built. The dark-skinned man from the planet Orun Titun had even been Jorgenson’s first choice for a first mate but Weeaboo had already started working for Shogunhime. Now Jorgenson saw the two standing at the bow of the Nihon Maru looking down as dozens of their players and NPCs boarded the Griefers frigate.

They had to be looking for something otherwise there was no way they would risk bringing their flagship so close to the ketches while they were burning. When Jorgenson had contacted Weeaboo97 he had only known that he was at the Caliphate with a small fleet. The fact that they were here with four cannon bune, the Nihon Maru, and ten kobaya, including the six that had fired all the arrows, Jorgenson now understood why. Apparently, they had already been hunting Griefers when Jorgenson inadvertently volunteered to be bait. Now he understood why they hadn’t charged him more.

Reaching into his item box Jorgenson pulled out his speakerphone, a cone shaped object that players could use to speak over distances. “Oy! You b*****d! Next time you need bait I’m charging double!”

Shogunhime didn’t even react to his call, not that he had expected the Asian beauty to, but Weeaboo97 turned to him with his own speaker. “Hell, if you see their other frigate and take their s**t I’ll pay you double your current job.”

Jorgenson's mind boggled at the thought of that much money, but not so much so that he let the rest of what was said slip by him. He hadn’t told Weeaboo how much money the job was paying. It was possible that he was talking out his a**, but Jorgenson didn’t think so. Regardless the crew of the Longjohn didn’t take more than one job at a time and he told Weeaboo as much before turning to his crew and telling them to haul a** for the river’s mouth.

Once through it didn’t take them long before they reached the small island in the middle of that river where they were to deliver the sapphire. It may have been small but the hill on it was large enough that none of them saw the frigate till they were at the top. The Greifer ship was docked, and aside from the NPCs unmanned. From the sounds inside the tavern at the top of that hill, which was the only structure on the island aside from the docks, Jorgenson could tell that the player crew was getting a jumpstart on their victory celebration.

Jorgenson ordered most of his crew to handle things out there while he and Oneyed finished the delivery. There were about eighty or so Greifers inside which was a lot since NPCs could fill all essential shipboard roles. Jorgenson ignored them and headed straight for the two players sitting at the table just to the right of the entrance. They were both low level, so they clearly only ran errands in-game. They were also both Asian which could have been a coincidence, after all even if they were from the same planet they might not have anything to do with each other, but Jorgenson still had that nagging suspicion from earlier.

As he and Oneyed sat down Jorgenson asked, “So does the cost of assistance come out of our pay or what?”

The look they gave each other before replying told him far more than anything they said. “That is not up to us. Do you have the code?”

Jorgenson didn’t bother to pass the sapphire to them discreetly since all the Griefers had noticed them by now and were looking intently at the exchange. Taking the gem one of them took out a magnifying glass which he used to look over the gem. “This is it. Our employer thanks you for your services.” he said after a moment of scrutiny and handed Jorgenson an emerald. “This holds the account information for your payment.”

It was at this moment that one of the Griefers decided to approach them, but before he could do anything beyond barking for their attention several loud explosions sounded in the distance. The direction being where the Longjohn had sailed from and where they had left the rest of the Griefer fleet. Then another explosion, much closer than the others and from the other direction, rocked the tavern. Before it had even finished the rest of the Longjohn crew filed in. One of them, M@rstenGirl, approached the table carrying a glowing green skull. Upon seeing the two Asian men Jorgenson was meeting she glanced at him before passing him the skull and stepping back. With the skull in hand Jorgenson thanked her then asked the two middlemen, “So I heard you were paying double for Griefer loot, that true?”

Examining the skull with his magnifying glass the middleman jumped back in shock, took out another emerald and said. “Deal!”

“Hey, you bastards that’s ours!” Cried the Greifer who had tried to approach them earlier. He never had the chance to do anything about it though as one of Jorgenson’s crew planted an axe in his head.

“For booty and Valhalla!” Jorgenson shouted the battle cry of the Longjohn Vikings. They may have been outnumbered, but since Viking builds were better for melee than pirate builds, they had them outgunned. It was a slaughter as his crew, debt free and rich, gleefully went at the Griefers.