[h3]Sean[/h3]

Sean stumbled into his apartment well after midnight, trying not to wake his roommate. Braiden had a midterm the next day, and he could get pissy when his sleep was disrupted. Sean managed to navigate his way down the hall to his own room, and brought his gaming PC out of sleep mode. The Elder Tale patches usually went live around 5 in the morning, so he still had a few hours to take care of things. He started with his DPS characters, turning in quests, depositing cash and items in his account bank, and generally tidying up. His healer was next and probably most important; started up a few crafting projects for items people always needed after expansions, pulled all his sales off the market, then the same housekeeping stuff he’d done on his DPS. Sean logged onto his tank, but he was too tired to finish up. He downed some tylenol and a lot of water, then flopped into bed and was in a deep sleep in no time.

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[h3]Jarvoff[/h3]

When he woke up, Sean immediately knew something was wrong. He didn’t feel even a hint of a hangover, which was highly unlikely given how many beer he’d knocked back the night before. He was also lying in a field, not his bed, and as soon as he moved an arm he noticed he was wearing heavy plate armor instead of just his underwear.

“Alright, I guess this is a dream. I always have weird dreams after drinking.” he mused out loud. Plate armour though...it seemed familiar. He put a hand on top of his head, and pulled off a very distinctive baseball cap. “OK, I’m dreaming that I’m Jarvoff. Makes sense, I was playing him before I went to bed.” Sean stood up, and immediately felt something poke him in the back of the head. “Oh don’t tell me…” he reached back, and sure enough, Balance of Judgement was strapped to his back. The oversized greatsword had always clipped a bit with player models, something Sean had written many an angry forum post about. Apparently in a dream that equated to the hilt poking him in the back of the head a lot.

Sean drew the sword and waved it around. It felt very natural, like he’d used a sword all his life. The armor was surprisingly comfortable as well. Sean deftly swung at a nearby stump, slicing it in half. The stump promptly disappeared, and was replaced by a single plank of wood. [i]“Miserable Quality Wood: Level 1 crafting item.”[/i] a tooltip popped up as Sean went to retrieve the piece of wood. “Ok, that’s a little hyper-detailed.”

He returned his sword to its sheathe, then somehow accidentally opened the player menu. A little experimentation showed that moving his hands a certain way opened and closed the menu. “Huh. Neat.” Sean was beginning to feel awfully suspicious about this dream. He ran a few steps. It was easy, not at all sluggish like in most dreams. He noticed a man and a woman talking, not far away. He set off towards them at a full sprint, easily running through the field. “Hey Ginger kid, mind if I punch you? K thanks!” he yelled out, and clocked the red haired man across the jaw. Again, so easy, not like punching underwater or anything. This wasn’t a dream. 

“Well shit.”