Ragnar and his friends entered an empty room on the third floor of the Wolf’s Den Fortress. Inside, Skiff sat on the floor, took two pieces of Megalotaur leather from his inventory, and began sewing them together with a needle.

  The brown thread slid over the surface following the pattern indicated by the crafting assistant tool. When Skiff finished, he set the needle on the crafting kit and admired the result: the piece would serve as the base for the first Megalotaur Bag.

  While he worked diligently, Artic and Niki leaned against the wall, talking in low voices, and Ragnar kept watch at the window, spying on the activity outside the fortress.

  “Yes, I did it!” Skiff cheered, holding up the large red bag he had just finished.

  “Nice work,” Niki said, giving a sly wink, and Artic nodded in approval.

  Despite his friends’ positive reactions, Ragnar was still worried. Skiff had taken more than ten minutes to craft the first piece. If he didn’t get faster, the group would have to wait over an hour for the remaining seven bags to be finished.

  Ragnar stayed quiet and waited for the second bag to be made.

  Skiff used the crafting helper again to memorize the stitch points. The improvement was obvious. There were fewer hesitations while working the needle, but it still wasn’t enough. It took eight and a half minutes to make that one.

  The druid was about to tell his friend to speed up, but fell silent when he deactivated the helper tool, finished the third bag in six minutes, and completed the rest under five.

  Satisfied with the improvement, Ragnar looked out over the fortress courtyard. The only forces present were the guards at the main building entrance, the two in front of the wall, the two sentries patrolling the ramparts, and a small group of distracted players.

  Confident by what he’d seen, Ragnar shifted into his iron bear form. The enhanced animal shape filled most of the room they occupied.

  His larger size made it difficult for his friends to fit the support frame that would hold the eight bags onto him. But to the group's delight, this entire stage went off without a hitch. In a few minutes, the bags were in place, four on each side. A gap was left between the first two and the last two, so that they could climb up.

  The first part of the plan was a success, but the real fun was about to begin.

  Ragnar returned to human form and opened the information window. The eight bags were equipment exclusive to the animal form, so the weight limit increases they provided did not work in his human form.

  Ragnar looked at the three around him.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  They confirmed, and then they headed down to the Treasure Hall.

  “Remember,” he said on the way, “carry as much iron as you can. Only move down when everyone’s ready. I can’t stay in there because the bear form is too big to get through some of the narrower corridors.”

  The three nodded and entered the room where the guild’s iron was stored.

  Ragnar walked the corridors, descended the stairway, and exited the main building through the back door. Outside, he surveyed the open area that separated him from the wall.

  There was only one sentry on watch, whistling as he paced the battlements. When he walked out of sight, Artic, Niki and Skiff appeared.

  Ragnar scanned the surroundings before shifting into his iron bear form. The three companions opened their inventories and transferred the iron into the bags. As soon as the trio finished transferring the iron, they returned to the Treasure Hall, and the druid shifted back to human form to avoid drawing suspicion.

  Time to stand still and look calm, he thought. The amount of iron already moved was more than double the human cap.

  In New Avalon Online, the weight limit defines how much an avatar can carry without being penalized.

  The true maximum is twice the weight limit. Trying to carry more than that prevents the avatar from doing anything else; they would stand rooted until they dropped enough weight.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  However, someone carrying more than the limit, but less than the true cap, suffers a penalty that reduces movement speed and increases energy consumption for actions. The harsher the overload, the more severe the penalty.

  With that in mind, Ragnar waited by the building’s wall when the sentry returned. He looked at Ragnar and greeted him. “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful,” the druid said, waving.

  Luckily, this was one of the few soldiers controlled by the system, so he quickly returned to his patrol routine.

  The three accomplices appeared once more with their inventories full of iron. Without wasting time, they approached the bear and loaded the cargo into the bags.

  Little by little, the tons of ore in the store began to disappear.

  In less than an hour, everything had been transferred to Ragnar’s inventory, and he was now in his iron bear form, ready to start the most difficult phase of the plan: the escape.

  “Hey! What’re you doing?” the sentry on the wall shouted.

  “We’re screwed,” Ragnar whispered to his friends, then called up to the soldier, “We’re carrying out a direct order from Lieutenant Havoc.”

  The guard hurried down the wall’s stairs.

  “And now?” Niki asked, nervous.

  “Run when I give the signal.”

  The guard brandished his halberd and advanced toward the group.

  “Return the—” But before he could finish, Ragnar leaped toward him and struck a Stunning Paw against his chest.

  The soldier fell backward.

  “Run!” he roared to his friends.

  The three equipped their weapons and sprinted for the fortress’s only gate. Halfway there, they were surprised by a party of three guild members.

  “Stop right there,” a warrior shouted, swinging a two-handed hammer. His fierce expression showed he already suspected something. “Grab them!”

  They attacked. The warrior led the charge. The thief followed, aiming his crossbow at the bear’s face, while a conjurer prepared to summon an allied creature.

  Ragnar let out a powerful roar, strong enough to make them hesitate for a second. The shout canceled the caster’s spell and disrupted the thief’s aim. When they recovered, the iron bear charged and knocked them down with his massive body.

  The warrior was the only one left standing, but the force of the impact made him drop the hammer.

  “No, no!” he shouted. “Don’t let them get away!”

  The thief rose, looked up at the sentry at the gate, and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Close the gate! Close it now!”

  The soldier heard the command, but by the time he reached the lever to shut the passage, it was too late.

  Ragnar and his friends were already outside the wall.

  They didn’t waste any time and sprinted toward the city of Salem. The two guards in front of the wall ran to intercept them, but fell behind and stopped to catch their breath. They panted as if they’d just run a marathon.

  Cheap, lazy guards, Ragnar concluded.

  As they ran down the hill, they heard the shouts coming from inside the wall. Artic, Niki and Skiff ran beside him.

  But when they reached the bottom of the slope, a mounted swordswoman awaited them, her face full of disappointment.

  “You betrayed me, Ragnar,” she said, drawing Salazar’s Blade. “Return everything you stole from us.”

  He’d already guessed the alarm had spread through the guild. By now, most members of the Black Paw knew what had happened and should be hurrying to help capture the thieves. It could be a matter of minutes before Zed and company showed up.

  “We can handle her,” Niki said, one hand resting on Artic’s armor.

  “We’ll stay here so no one chases you,” the knight said.

  “Thanks,” Ragnar said, then turned to Skiff. “Climb onto my back; I’ll carry you into the city.”

  The hunter launched himself onto the back of the large black iron bear, but since there was nothing to brace himself against to climb up, he used the Megalotaur bags as footholds.

  Meanwhile, Havoc pulled on her horse’s reins, spurring it toward the thieves. As she gained speed, she aimed the blade at the iron bear’s head for a slicing blow.

  Ragnar fixed his gaze on the approaching swordswoman. The horse charged at full speed. The blade flashed in the sun. She got close, very close, and he heard someone beg, “Do something.”

  He rose up on his hind legs; the sword’s cut was blocked by the layers of iron covering his forepaws. The blow was stopped, and only a few hit points were lost.

  Ragnar threw his whole weight against her and her horse.

  The steed neighed in pain and panic. Ragnar expected to see Havoc sprawled on the ground, but was surprised to see her rolling to mitigate the damage from the fall, avoiding the stun she would otherwise have suffered.

  She got back up, and growled in fury. Her light armor was smeared with dirt and grass, but Havoc ignored it. She needed to deal with the thieves first. Then, while scanning the horizon to track her enemies, Havoc’s face flushed with rage.

  The great black bear ran off. On his back, a hunter waved his bow while taunting her.

  Distracted by the provocation, Havoc was surprised by a ground-shaking crash. Artic had jumped and slammed his flail into the ground, causing the tremor that knocked her down.

  Niki appeared next, raising her daggers and driving them into the opponent’s chest. But Havoc raised her sword; the blade sliced into the assassin’s forearm, and she cursed loudly.

  The swordswoman rose and stepped back before Artic could react.

  “Send a message to all guild members,” she said, activating the command restricted to high-ranking members. “Ragnar, the druid, stole our treasure. He’s probably fleeing to Salem, so anyone near the city: kill him.”

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