Snowlily, Dwarf Priest, Level 16.
"Level 16. A little low."
Most players were already in the 20–25 range, so level 16 was below average.
Snowlily's playtime wasn't very stable. She had classes during the day and could only play at night, so it made sense that her level was lower.
Gabryell thought to himself, Once I hit 60, I can power-level the lower-level guild members. Might as well level a few alts while I'm at it.
He wasn't worried about Snowlily's level at all. As long as she didn't quit, he had a hundred ways to get her to 60 quickly.
Snowlily traded Gabryell twenty-three 8-slot bags.
"These are the ones I made with the materials you gave me."
Gabryell traded her more materials in return.
"Make some more. Keep four for yourself. Once your Tailoring levels up and you learn Silk Bags, I'll keep supplying mats."
Snowlily didn't refuse.
"Okay."
Free materials to level Tailoring was pure profit.
Then she said, "You're already level 30. Can you help me kill an elite mob? Smooch is in class and won't be online until later."
"Ol' Sooty?"
Gabryell guessed that at level 16, she must have picked up the elite quest Vyrin's Revenge.
"Yes. I can't solo it."
Priests didn't really come online for solo leveling until 40, when they got Shadowform. Before that, without Shadowform, their elite-killing ability was mediocre. Half their damage came from shielding themselves and wanding things down.
"No problem. Let's go now."
A level 20 elite meant nothing to a level 30 Mage.
Ol' Sooty was a bear that roamed a cave south of Thelsamar. Gabryell brought Snowlily straight past the nearby level 15–16 players and into the cave.
Luckily, Ol' Sooty was still alive. With a Priest there to heal, Gabryell simply stood still and blasted the bear down.
"Thank you."
After turning in the quest, Snowlily thanked him again.
"If you need help in the future, just ask me. If I can help, I will."
"Okay."
She thanked him once more.
"Leader, I'm logging off for class now. I'll come back later."
World of Warcraft was insanely popular, and Tichondrius was the most populated server during launch. Logging out meant facing queues of thousands. If you wanted to avoid the queue, you had to stay logged in.
Back in 2004, the game used time cards instead of subscriptions. Blizzard practically wanted you online 24/7. If you wedged your character into a wall at an inn with the W key held down, you'd never disconnect.
Of course, that was the low-end method. Veteran players used NumLock auto-run.
"Don't log out yet. The queue will take forever. Find a corner in the inn, press NumLock, and let your character run into the wall."
Gabryell explained, "That way, no matter how long you're gone, you won't disconnect."
Snowlily sounded surprised.
"You can really do that?"
"NumLock is the game's default auto-run hotkey. Try it."
A few seconds later, Snowlily's character started running into the wall.
"That's amazing, you really know your stuff."
Gabryell smiled. Being admired as an expert felt pretty great.
After teaching Snowlily how to stay online, he didn't keep it to himself. He shared the trick in the guild TS group.
After everyone tried it, praise flooded the chat nonstop.
Gabryell closed TS and returned to the game. Snowlily's character was still dutifully running into the wall, and she'd left a message:
"I'm off to class. See you later :) ."
Loch Modan was too low-level for a level 30 Gabryell. He left Thelsamar, followed the road north, passed through Dun Algaz, and entered the Wetlands.
New players often got lost in the Wetlands, but Gabryell knew the route so well he could run it with his eyes closed. Using Blink to travel faster, he reached Menethil in about ten minutes.
"Hi, you're in the Wetlands?"
A whisper came from Coldhands.
Gabryell remembered all the earliest guild recruits well. He checked Coldhands' location and saw he was also in the Wetlands.
"What's up? Trouble with a quest mob?"
When guild members had problems, the leader had to help. That was part of the job.
Coldhands replied, "While questing, I found a bunch of really high-level dragons in the southeast corner. I thought maybe there's some super boss there, so I wanted to tell you and see if the guild should organize a raid."
In Coldhands' mind, a zone for level 20–30 players shouldn't have anything above level 30. Bring enough people, and surely they could kill it.
The southeast Wetlands. Grim Batol.
Gabryell gave a faint smile. That place carried painful memories for him.
"There really are elite red dragons there, level 57 to 62. Nobody can kill them right now. There's also a very strong level 62 red dragon inside. It's a Horde level 60 quest mob."
A level 62 Wetlands red dragon was impossible for him now, but once he hit 60, he'd definitely come back and wipe the place clean.
"You really knows everything."
Then Coldhands linked an item in chat.
Gabryell's eyes lit up.
"Holy shit. Tiny Crimson Whelpling."
His shout drew the other three guys in the dorm over immediately.
"What the hell is a Tiny Crimson Whelpling?"
Gabryell pointed at the linked item.
"Remember the Green Wing Macaw from Deadmines? This summons a flying baby red dragon pet."
"Tch. I thought it was something amazing," Igor said dismissively. "Just a cosmetic pet."
Hugo, on the other hand, was excited.
"A baby red dragon? If I give this to Lunatori, do you think she'll fall for me?"
Lunatori loved the Green Wing Macaw from Deadmines. Every time she logged in, she summoned it.
Cookie not dropping the Black Tabby Cat back then had been a real regret for Hugo. Ever since, he'd wanted to find another pet to win her favor.
Igor sneered.
"Keep simping."
Hugo fired back.
"Keep being jealous."
Gabryell and Carlos were long used to their bickering and ignored them.
Carlos asked, "This thing really that valuable?"
If it were ordinary, Gabryell wouldn't have reacted like that. It had to be incredibly rare.
"Only Crimson Whelps, Dark Whelps, and Flame Whelps in the Wetlands drop Tiny Crimson Whelpling. Their rates are 0.06%, 0.14%, and 0.16%."
In his previous life, Gabryell had killed thousands of Wetlands whelps and never seen one.
"The drop rate is criminally low. Some people can kill ten thousand and still never get one. Low drop rate means rare. Rare means expensive. Once everyone levels up, selling this for over a thousand gold won't be a problem."
There were plenty of appearance-focused players, especially women. Rare pets in-game were like luxury handbags in real life. Some people would spend anything to get one.
This world never lacked insanely lucky people.
Coldhands was one of them.
Gabryell typed:
"This is a vanity pet. It can't fight. Click it to hatch it."
"Like the Black Tabby Cat from Deadmines?"
"Exactly."
So Coldhands even had Cookie's Black Tabby Cat. He ought to rename himself Redhands.
Coldhands sounded disappointed.
"Then it's useless. Takes up a bag slot too. My Black Tabby is already in the bank collecting dust."
Gabryell immediately had an idea, but before he could ask whether it was for sale, Coldhands spoke first.
"Leader, want it? I'll give it to you."
Gabryell didn't want to exploit a guild member.
"How about this. I'll buy it. Name a price."
"It's just for looks. Since you want it, 1 gold."
1 gold.
Gabryell was speechless.
Something worth over 1000 gold in two months was being sold for 1 gold right now.
"How about this instead. I'll give you 50 gold."
He considered it for a moment, then offered what he thought was the fairest current price.
Gold prices were still absurdly high. Not as insane as launch week, but gold was still selling for real money on the side. Fifty gold was worth around thirty U.S. dollars.
The offer completely stunned Coldhands.
Seeing no reply for a while, Gabryell asked,
"Well?"
Coldhands finally came back to his senses.
"I'll sell."
Fifty gold.
He could barely comprehend that kind of money. He only had 8 gold total, and most of it had already gone into training skills and buying gear off the Auction House.
"I'm at Menethil. Come back and trade me."
"Okay. Wait for me—I'm on my way."
Coldhands practically wished he had wings. With 50 gold, he was that much closer to affording his level 40 mount.
Carlos grimaced.
"Fifty gold? You're paying thirty bucks for a cosmetic pet?"
"It'll sell for over a thousand later?"
"Only higher," Gabryell said confidently.
Coldhands returned quickly, and the two traded at the Menethil inn.
Gabryell opened his bag and looked at the Tiny Crimson Whelpling resting quietly inside.
Who should he give this one to?