“How do you always do it?”

Cromarty looked up from adjusting the cobwebs on the barrels in the corridor.  “Do what?”

“It’s been a hundred instances since you last got killed,” Grom said, leaning up against the wall with a dry clatter. 

“Oh.”  Cromarty scratched the back of his skull and looked away.  “Um, sorry about that.”

Grom snorted, his rusted armor rattling.  “Sorry?  I’m not upset or anything.  Since when does a rez or twenty matter?  I’m impressed is all.”

“Really?”  Cromarty looked up, the red glow in his eye sockets brightening. “It’s nothing special.”

“In this zone?”  Grom waved his pitted saber around at the old masonry.  “You’re too modest. I mean, seriously.  Players have trooped through here a hundred times, and you’re still alive.  What’s your secret?”

“Uh, I wouldn’t call it a secret.  Killing me is more trouble than it’s worth, I guess.  Players don’t like high dodge, but mostly because I got a backwater zone.”  Cromarty gestured to the far side of the intersection, and its heavy, iron-bound door. “All the good loot is over there, and I'm stuck guarding a dead end.”

“True.  Though, to be honest, I’m surprised you don’t come out here more often.  I always thought this was a particularly fine corridor.”

Cromarty’s gaze roamed the mildewed stone a moment before he nodded.  “You have a point, and I do like how the torches gutter here.  I guess I’m just used to lurking in coffins.”

“I suppose you did gut that archer from it that one time.  Anyhow, that’s beside the point.”  Grom reached into his inventory and produced a brightly wrapped present.  “Here, I made you this to mark the occasion.”  

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to.”

Cromarty’s eye sockets shone brightly as he shredded the paper.  “Oh, wow, a hat!”  

He turned the fine top hat over in his hands, admiring the deep black gloss that shimmered like rainbows in the flickering torchlight.

“Do you like it?” Grom said, rubbing his hands together.

“It’s…  It’s beautiful.”  Cromarty raised the hat, perching it on his skull at a jaunty angle before strutting down the hall.  “Thank you so much!”

A massive gong echoed through the corridors, followed by a cold wind that whistled through his ribcage, and made the tattered banners flap.  Cromarty snatched at his hat to keep it from flying away.

The gust died down and Grom straightened, hefting his sword.  “Crap.  Players.”

Cromarty nodded and tucked the hat away in his inventory before equipping his dagger.

The two took their positions, standing there in the corridor and moaning occasionally. 

There was a distant crashing, and then the door burst open.  With blinding speed, two adventurers rushed into the room.  Grom was down in seconds, but Cromarty managed to dodge several strikes before the mage finished an incantation and he collapsed into a pile of smoking bones.  

With practiced ease, the adventurers rifled through their remains before leaving as quickly as they came.

Empty wind blew through the chamber, bringing the echo of distant battle.  Minutes passed. 

Then, in the distance, Zn’rgforp the fenestrated’s final bellow of rage echoed throughout the level, and the lights went black.

An unknowable moment later, and everything was back in a puff of logic.

Grom stretched, cricking his skull back into alignment.  “Really sorry about that.”

Cromarty slid down the wall until he hunched on the floor.  “I– I’ll be okay.”

“No, really I’m sorry.  I hate to break the streak.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Cromarty’s sockets flickered.  “And I believe you. The streak never really mattered.”

Grom cocked his head.  “Then what’s bothering you?”

Cromarty looked down at the ground, his voice a whisper.  “They took it.”

“What?  The hat?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that sucks.”  Grom’s back rattled against the wall as he sat down next to Cromarty.  “Don’t worry, the next time I kill a pixie, I’ll make you another.”

Cromarty’s finger traced a line in the dust on the floor.  “It wouldn’t be the same.  Besides, what if they come back?”

“Why would they?”

“They took the hat.”

Grom shrugged.  “Well, yeah, but, players take everything that isn't nailed down, and then break anything left.  It's not like the hat had any stats.  Nothing they should want it for.”

“You’re sure?”

Grom nodded.  “Yeah.  You’ll be back up to a hundred in no time.”

The massive gong rang again and the two skeletons braced themselves.  As the wind died away, Grom looked over and scratched his head.  “Another group?  Already?”