"So this is the Fourth Calamity Soros created through the Mind Flayer Elder Brain and Psionics? What an interesting bunch..."
The chief god of the Elven Pantheon stood at the entrance to the interplanar portal, curiosity plain on his face.
This was not Corellon's first time observing these outsiders.
Back when Raymond had summoned them to Faerûn's Northland in great numbers to fight an allied army of thousands of monsters, Corellon had noticed their utterly different state of mind and their ferocious, fearless way of fighting.
But like the other gods, he had assumed these adventurers and mercenaries were helpers Raymond had recruited from other worlds. He had never suspected the truth hidden behind them.
Now that he knew it, Corellon could finally observe this unusual group from a different perspective and understand how they thought.
He did not even have to look closely to tell whether an Orc or Half-Orc was a local or a player.
The difference in their bearing and spirit was simply too great.
Thrall's dealings with the elements and Shamans had brought some change to the local Orcs, but the savagery, ignorance, stupidity, and worship of strength ingrained in them could not fade completely in less than two generations.
Players, by contrast, seemed far more civilized. They carried an air of equality and freedom from head to toe.
No mortal anywhere on Faerûn could possess that.
Even setting aside social class, power, and wealth, differences in class levels and personal strength alone made people unequal.
That was to say nothing of their instinctive awe toward powerful beings such as gods, Demons, Devils, and Angels.
Only by treating the entire world as a make-believe game could someone truly rise above it all.
That was why countless people became absorbed in virtual game worlds.
In the real