Pop Culture Does Nothing For Me [Closed]

[Scoria]

Scoria walked up to Sarum, eyes cold as he moved. It wasn't as though he had any great interest in 'being helpful' or whatnot, but there were rumors that he'd be rewarded well for participating in this particular charade. He wasn't one to pass up an opportunity like that, especially considering no one seemed daring enough to enter into the dangerous dungeons for materials. It wasn't as though he could do it himself, a fact that stung when spoken aloud, so he opted for something a bit more within his range. He had already come by once or twice, the map data already registered on his map. With eyes narrowed, he walked straight towards the Landers who appeared to be handing out tasks. The tasks themselves were clearly set for groups (ugh), which Scoria could tolerate, but it was clear he wasn't going on any combat expeditions. If he intended to do that, he'd just go ahead and traverse the dungeons. The other two option available were scouting, which involved some level of combat, and crafting. Crafting, he could manage, considering where his crafting levels were at currently. It certainly wasn't anything to brag about, but Scoria had confidence in his ability to at least do something.

Or would have, had his glance at the signboard not prompted a twitch in his eyebrow and a small frown. He wasn't particularly prone to smiling, but it was obvious that he wasn't the neutrally annoyed individual he usually was. Something had irked him. Equipment and item maintenance, a task for those who created weapons and armor. Blacksmiths, tailors, even those pesky woodcrafters had work. Frontliners need potions and machinery and wooden structures need advancement? Brewers, chefs, pharm idiots, even artisans seemed to have something to do. He imagined that the Alchemists might produce some lamps or the like for the use of the late night adventurers, but what about scribes. Scoria's sharp eyes glared up at the Lander manning the area, Allure activating immediately as it tended to do whenever Scoria dealt with the 'People of the Land'. "..." Scoria almost said something, but instead opted only to stare at the Lander who was directing people on where to go.

"Oh, hello! Would you like to help with the crafting efforts? We have a job for almost everyone!" Now he had done it. It appeared that Allure worked even when Scoria didn't speak and only glared, but this bratty Lander had gone and said something he shouldn't have. "And what of Scribes?" The poor Lander's breath caught in his throat as he tried to stutter out an answer. Of course they didn't. Scribes had their use out in Scouting, adding to the maps. As far as actual crafting for the area went, the usage of that was low. Certainly, Scoria could jack map data from the scouts and use it to construct a better map via the 'Unfounded Kingdom' map, but that was only if the London map extended to here. It probably didn't. Which meant that he was going to have to research the area himself. Lovely. And no one was going to just give him map data, people weren't that nice. "I thought so. Being classist against scribes is not a good idea, mister. I'll follow your rules."

Pulling a signpost up out of the ground itself, Scoria walked forward with the wooden contraption on his back until he was directly in the way. If they were going to push Scribes around, he'd push them right back. His glaring expression and the Allure skill coupled with his Courtesan abilities had the effect of getting people to back off. Slamming his signpost down in front of himself and scribbling out the sign, Scoria replaced the message. If they were going to oppress his class like that, they'd better be prepared for him to fight back.

Looking for a Scribe.

There was no exclamation point or excited tone to the message, it was short and sweet, written over a roughly scratched out message that covered the signpost before. Scoria's hands rested on the edges of the signpost as he stared out at all the newcomers, as if daring them to step forward and talk with him. If someone was going to work with him, they needed that much in terms of guts anyway.

[Tag: @0x1dea ]

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Mood: A Good Sign of Trouble It had taken Oxford a couple of days as he approached the encampents of Sarum, but the journey was worth it. The unexplored mountains sat further north of the encampment, its peaks holding some rare items (probably). Just the sight of them made Oxford feel like he wanted to run around those mountains and see what he could find, but the lack of being adequately equipped dissuaded him from such actions. That, and the Golems that could probably send him back to the Cathedral in one blow. That discouraged Oxford as well. People were scattered around, signing up to either help out with the combat efforts, or supplying the camp and its campers items to help the combat group have a better chance of taking down the Golems known to lurk in these lands. (Hm, strange. Wonder why there aren't any romping around, kicking up all these tents.) The sudden image of a Golem running around kicking various tents and wildlife formed in Oxford's head, causing him to chuckle a bit. He got in line with the other Adventurers, most of them chattering excitedly about the tasks they were wanting to accomplish. As the line slowly moved forward, he could overhear some of them inquiring the Landers about how to join in the fighting or crafting arrangements. As Oxford listened to this, it suddenly dawned on him that he lacked the strength to fight and the ability to craft anything useful to other Adventurers. (If I were a higher level, I would fight. If I actually liked crafting, I would be doint that. Looks like I'm not cut out for either.) He left his place in line, feeling dejected as he realized that there wasn't really any other option for him to do. Oxford decided to walk around the camp grounds some more, seeing what else might be available for an Adventurer in his circumstances. As he walked towards what looked like a Lander information booth, he saw that a dark-haired man had taken one of the location guideposts and stuck it in the middle of the path. A simple message was scrawled over the original sign's text. Looking for a Scribe. (What luck! A fellow Scribe, and yet it looks like he would love nothing more than to see me perish before him!) The young man glared at him with those crimson eyes of his, almost as if he were daring Oxford to approach him. Oxford stuck his hands in his pockets, partly to show that his glare wasn't unnerving, and mostly so that he wouldn't see his hands shaking. The need to help with the Sarum discovery outweighed his fear of talking to complete strangers, especially the ones who glare at you as you approach them. Oxford cleared his throat before he spoke. He thought about smiling, but seeing as how the man was still glaring at him, it was probably better that he didn't. "Hello, there. What are you needing a Scribe for?" (Too late to turn back now...) Words: 502 OOC Notes: Sorry, I didn't mean for this post to get so wordy... Tags: Scoria

[Scoria]

Were they cowards or did they just not meet the requirements? Scoria's sharp gaze cut through anyone who approached like butter, sending them melting right back to their mothers. Well, those who had mothers anyway. For the adventurers, they just scoffed and left him alone. That was fine too. People simply passed him by, but Scoria was satisfied just by being able to mock that asshole of a Lander who had so rudely pretended that even Scribes could have a job easily handed to them. The Lander who had pretended that everything was even from the start. It clearly wasn't. None of this was fair, so why was he bothering to pretend like it was? Wasn't it better to just be upfront and honest. "Because I'm stupid, I can't think of anything for the Scribes to do. You're not needed." Saying something like that would have been so much simpler, wouldn't it?

After all, Scoria was well aware of what it meant to be a weed in a garden full of flowers. An existence whose only purpose was to make others feel better about themselves. He scowled deeper as his gaze moved forward to lock onto a new individual. Oxford, the individual in question, was walking towards Scoria now. This prompted the fire-eyed youth to stare the man down, crimson in his eyes almost attempting to foreshadow just what Scoria might do to Oxford if the guardian rubbed the druid the wrong way. Oxford's question was not telling in the least. Scoria would have loved to be able to freely assume this Adventurer was a Scribe, but what he had said was not telling. It was merely a question, almost as though he was simply curious. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. Scoria glared him down and stared hard, as if he would be able to figure out just what crafting class the guardian had taken by staring. It probably didn't help that Scoria was a courtesan and therefore, by his very nature, he had an overbearing presence. Most courtesans used it to be charismatic and endearing. Scoria was not like that. "Are you a Scribe?"

The implication behind those words was clear. Although Scoria had spoken neutrally, in a flat tone, the subtext rang loudly. "Don't waste my time", Scoria's words said. As if words alone could force someone to cower backwards and leave when they weren't wanted. Scoria waited, eyes burning forward with all the scathing distaste for humanity that could be mustered into one human being. At the very least, that was what it might have looked like to a passerby. Scoria was a believer in people telling you what they wanted if you just listened, so Scoria did exactly that. He asked his question and then listened, all of his attention on Oxford. However many minutes might have passed, he'd wait for the response. Assuming Oxford responded in the affirmative, Scoria's response would be as follows: "The Landers have no jobs for scribes. Their signposts reject us, their workload has no place for us, and therefore, we reap no benefits. However, as scribes, we have things we can do. And we will do them, we will create the jobs ourselves, and we will have them bow their heads in apology for ever acting like Scribes weren't needed here. They require a group, so I am enlisting you. You and I, together, will change the way Scribes are treated here. Are you in or are you out?" The speech didn't have any great fire to it, but the pressure of the words and the weight they held alone should have been sufficient to give Oxford an idea of just what he'd be getting into by accepting.

[Tag: @0x1dea ]

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Mood: Just What Have I Gotten Into... "Are you a Scribe?" the young man had asked Oxford. He thinks he remembered nodding to the question, but Oxford was too busy gathering the Cleric's profile in case he needed to avoid this glaring individual in the future. He casually took out his notebook and jotted down the information, the man still glaring at him as he did so. [Still pending as to whether or not to avoid this person. Time will tell, sure enough.] The young man (Scoria, according to the display above his head) had suddenly launched into an almost poetic speech, talking about how little opportunities Scribes had in the Sarum expedition, talking about how unfairly the Landers had treated them. The last couple sentences had made it seem like Scoria wouldn't be satisfied until he had taken his venegence upon all who dared to look down on the Scribe, which scared Oxford a little at first. However, he remembered how little Crafting class items there were in the markets back at London, further emphasizing to him that the Scribe was being treated as a 'sideshow', where people would buy their items if crafted, but wouldn't be affected too much if the Scribe didn't make/have any. (Maybe this guy isn't that bad. He just seems to be a little too...intense about the subject of Scribes...) Snapping his notebook shut, he tucked it back into his Inventory, and then held out his hand towards him, his mind made up. "If you'll have me, I'd be more than happy to accept your offer." Scoria didn't seem to be a handshake-type guy before, but then again, weirder things have happened. It's usually the small things that make the biggest impact. Words: 283 OOC Notes: Drat, now this post's too short... Tags: Scoria

[Scoria]

[[Don't stress about length. Just write as much as you think you need to and have fun with it~ I'm not picky as long as you give me something to respond to, okay?]]

Scoria almost pulled that damn book out of Oxford's hands and threw it to the side. Was that the kind of attitude you had when someone was talking to you? Still, the player was apparently a Scribe after all, so if he had a quirk about writing or two, it could be excused. For now. The individual agreed and extended his hand, so Scoria would let it slide. Almost slamming his hand into Oxford's outstretched one, Scoria clasped and shook the outstretched hand once with the kind of force one would expect from Scoria's appearance. It wasn't a necessarily strong grip to the point it would hurt, but the impact came from the contact of the hands and the strength of the shake. It was firm and determined. They had shaken on it and, as Scribes, Scoria very much expected Oxford to uphold his end of the verbal contract. After all, that was what Scribes were about. Contracts. He would be a fool if he didn't respond to the contract offered by Oxford. "Scoria."

Letting go of the clasped hand shortly after, Scoria waited a moment to see if the other Scribe would give out his name before pulling the signpost out of the ground and throwing it on the ground where he had found it. Stepping up to the Lander who had insulted him before, Scoria placed his hand on the individual's shoulder and activated Allure. "Even if you don't have jobs for us, you won't say you don't have materials for Scribes, right?" Scoria's crimson eyes locked with the unfortunate Lander's pale blue, and although Scoria did not smile in the least, the stuttering Lander got the message and gestured nervously towards some maps and materials. Letting go of the man's shoulder, Scoria gave him a light shove and turned around to the materials area, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure Oxford was still following him. Grabbing a few of the rudimentary maps of the area and some ink, Scoria pocketed the materials and marched off towards Sarum. "First task. We're mapping the perimeter of the city. These shitty Landers refuse to get close and the 'scouts' are focused on the north and south. So we're running the perimeter and mapping it. As scribes, we have that advantage. We'll get a sense for how big this city actually is and get back here. It's not scouting, it's preparation for crafting maps for the Sarum area. Like the Unfounded Kingdom - London map. Ready?"

Scoria's plan was altogether insane, but it was that kind of insanity that drove him to prove Scribes were worth something in this situation as well. It was true that Scouts were focused nonstop on exploring the north and south. Which was fine, but what of the city to the west? Golems only spawned once you got too close to the city. The papers had said that much and Scoria actually did some reading once in a while. As long as the duo stayed far enough away from the city, their combined Scribe skills would let them not only create a proper map of the Sarum area, but go so far as to be able to figure out how big the city itself was. Had anyone even considered or thought about that? Or were they so focused on getting into the city itself that they didn't care what the city held? Not just the Adventurers, but the Landers as well were ot blame here. Well, Oxford had a chance to object, but the trip itself would be fairly quick provided they avoided most of the tougher monsters.

[Tag: @0x1dea ] [Muse: Manic Drive ]

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Mood: A Fine Day to Make Maps "Hold on. Let me get prepared." He rummaged through his inventory and made a few sheets of Level 1 Parchment. They didn't need to be the highest quality, he just needed enough to write down any important data/map details that might be useful. He tucked his newly crafted Parchment back into his Inventory, folding one sheet and putting in his pocket as he placed his Old Quill in the other. The recent adventures he had in the Windsor woods and the Marshlands didn't leave Oxford enough time to make the higher level crafting items. The basics would have to do for now. "Alright, I'm ready whenever you are." Even though his recent combat expeditions with other players allowed him to level up, he would still have to avoid combat with the golems. Monsters within a 5-level difference of his current level were enough for him to take on his own, but the current data showed Level 20 monsters. Oxford was only Level 8, so tanking one hit from them would have him back at the Cathedral in an instant. Oxford had also grabbed some materials from the lander, but he left a small gift of gold for the Lander, thanking him for the supplies and apologizing to him at the same time. He made sure to catch up to Scoria before he began looking for him, not wanting him to come back and bully the Lander a second time. (His methods may be unorthodox, but at least he gets the job done.) According to the data he accrued from other Adventurers who participated in the combat groups, most of them stated that the Golems would spawn frequently when anyone would try to enter the city. Oxford looked at his mini-map, noticing that the area beyond city abruptly stopped. (Are the Golems spawning to keep us within certain boundaries of London? Is there something beyond the city that we're not supposed to see?) The thought of exploring a forbidden area filled Oxford with curiosity, kind of like when you see a locked door with a sign on it saying 'Do Not Enter'. (Why? What was inside? What are they hiding? Why are they shutting it away from the Adventurers? What's the purpose of keeping us cooped up in London?) These and many more questions popped into Oxford's mind as both him and Scoria headed out, setting off to discover the unknown. Words: 401 OOC Notes: -- Tags: Scoria

[Scoria]

Scoria's expression darkened when Oxford pulled out those materials from his inventory. The entire point of being here and harassing these Landers was so that they didn't have to use their own stuff. Scoria wasn't going to stand for Oxford's 'consideration'. He stared hard at the paper in Oxford's hands and scoffed under his breath, grabbing some extra materials and quickly bleeding the paper together, using some of the provided pans and water in order to bleed the paper fibers into one. It was a bit of a process, admittedly, and Scoria didn't really understand how to do 'system assisted crafting', so to speak, so he did what he wanted instead. Which was to create several sheets of Level 10 Parchment. Being a certain level was only a requirement for crafting, but as far as scribing and updating map data went, that level of equipment didn't really make much difference. After all, someone wasn't going to tell you you couldn't wear fancy vanity clothing because you were low leveled. That would be ridiculous. He couldn't do much about the quill, seeing as Scribes were expected to have their own and it really was a part of the scribe process. Scoria felt as though making your own quill was almost like an initiation into being a scribe and helped describe the personality of the crafter in question.

Well, the point in question was really just that Oxford's parchment was bluh. He turned to the scribe and walked forward, glaring again. Now that he was thinking about it... Rolling the pieces of parchment into a cylinder, Scoria attempted to smack Oxford in the face with the materials. "Name." Oxford sure was rude, not giving his name when Scoria had clearly given his. Dropping the level 10 parchment in Oxford's hands, marching off. He wasn't about to leave the other scribe behind, that much was for certain, but he wasn't about to go and let him take his time rolling around like an idiot. Scoria was already working on getting the basic general outline for the map outline he was making. His first task was simply to create a general scale for the map, drawing up a few casual circles and squigglies to represent the camp itself, plus a compass rose in the top corner. Naturally, the camp was placed on the far east side, so as to give enough space for Sarum, which would be on the west. Stepping fully out of the camp and walking towards Sarum with a careful stride, Scoria took a moment to turn towards Oxford. "Cutting counterclockwise around the city. Objections?" Scoria was already walking towards the northern end of the city, careful not to intrude on the borders. He was counting his steps and carefully dotting his map, but Oxford did have the chance to object. As if to give him time to do so, Scoria took a moment to summon his familiar.

A cheeky little forest sprite of the Alraune variety, the forest sprite was dressed in a potato sack on her torso and had a flower dress for her waist down. A reasonable outfit, one might imagine. "Be lookout", Scoria said, crouching down so the forest sprite could piggyback off the player. Grunting and rising to his full height, he let the forest sprite hang out on his back as she looked around, spotting Oxford immediately. "Okay, turtle. Hello, glasses turtle!" Again with the nicknames. Whatever.

[Tag: @0x1dea ] [Muse: Mouth 2 Mouth ]

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Status: Head Bopped, Thoughts Lost "No, it's Oxford, not glasses turtle!" Oxford's voiced echoed through the air as he shouted ahead to Scoria, the forest pixie he summoned resting on his shoulder as he marched off. (Tch. Treating me like loose baggage. Don't expect me to come running when you find a couple of Golems to tango with.) Oxford stuffed the Level 10 Parchment into his Inventory, and pulled out his Level 1 Parchment instead, jotting down notes of the appearance and location of the city on the pages. (I don't understand why everything has to be on the highest quality. Save that for the finished maps. Some of my most important discoveries were started by random scribblings on paper napkins back at home.) After the filling the page with notes, he placed it at the bottom of the stack he was holding in his hands, and began copying the details of his mini-map onto the paper, stopping when the mini-map abrubtly ended. He looked up ahead, expecting a wall of some sort, but there was still land stretching before the two Scribes. Oxford walked past Scoria, catching a glance of his map still in its early stages. (I guess I'll leave the cartography to him, then.) Keeping an eye on the mini-map, Oxford began to take steps towards the spot where the world apparently ended. There weren't any visible signs of the landscape stopping. Oxford waved his hand around in front of him as he moved forward a couple of steps, just in case he found an invisible boundary put in place to keep the Adventurers in this location. He thought he could hear Scoria's sprite friend saying something about a turtle washing invisible windows, but he ignored it for now. "Hey, Scoria. What do you think of this?" Oxford explained to his discovery to him, wanting to know if they should come back to this spot later after mapping out the city. Words: 319 OOC Notes: -- Tags: Scoria

[Scoria]

Scoria's eyes and ears were directed forward, not intending to walk unreasonably close to the golems if he could help it. After all, there wasn't much point to picking fights with the creatures. He'd instead opt to simply avoid them as best as he could, moving around their ranges as he walked, expecting Oxford to do the same. It seemed that the other player was writing a massive amount about various things and while Renai didn't really get it, he did understand at least that the other Scribe was up to something he deemed important. Just that much was enough for Scoria, for now. The player was carefully and purposefully walking until Oxford moved ahead of him, causing the druid to slow down and stare down Oxford. Was he even watching where he was going? Scoria's eyes slipped from the guardian to his map, boring into it with his gaze.

Ah. So that was it. Moving through his inventory, Scoria pulled out his 'Unfounded Kingdom Map - London Area' map. It was a redundant name, but whatever. Scoria tapped his quill on the map's surface, the mini-map filling up with data Scoria had yet to record, right up until the edge of the map. Where Oxford and Scoria were right now. "There is no Sarum map, so your London map has reached its limit. That seems the likely conclusion and, to fix it, the reasonable thing to do would be to include and add in a 'Sarum' map."

Which, incidentally, was part of what they were doing right now. Doing some preliminary work in order to determine the depth of the Sarum area and know where to center such a map on, and so on and so forth. From what Scoria understood, because the minimap could not be accessed post-Catastrophe, the UKM (Unfounded Kingdom Map) was the only way to share map data and perhaps incidentally the only reasonable way to see where one was on a map? Scoria wasn't really sure what was what. Honestly, maps were pretty confusing, but the most reasonable thing to it was what Scoria had suggested earlier. He wasn't entirely sure, but if the minimap ended, that could only be because it lacked the 'space to expand', as opposed to there being nothing to expand into. Which meant the map required an upgrade. Incidentally also a reason he had attempted to craft that magician's paper. Who really wanted a hundred different maps anyway? Speaking of which, he was going to have to develop a map that automatically recorded map data or something.

Maps were weird. The things he knew for a fact were as followed. By exploring a region, an individual's minimap automatically recorded the data for the region. The physical maps were a way to share map data. Partying with someone would automatically result in map data being shared (provided they both had maps?) Map data was confusing as anything.

That was all he had. At the very least, however, that much was the truth. Certifiable, in fact.

But the way that Oxford had phrased it, it seemed almost like there was just one area inside the region, like a small circle, that didn't have data. If that was the case, then it was of special interest, but if it was just that his minimap was giving him trouble because he didn't have a 'Unfounded Kingdom Map - Sarum Area' map (again, redundant), then that was whatever. "If you have somewhere you want to revisit, let's do so after we make our cut of the realm. I have to map by hand and I'd prefer to keep our initial observations untainted and fresh." That was to say, not made after they might have accidentally released a field boss or something of the sort.

[Tag: @0x1idea ]

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Status: How Do Map? After walking around the city perimeter, gathering map data and jotting down other observations, Oxford walked back to that spot that had been giving him some trouble. The city areas also remained blank, leaving a nice circular blank spot on Oxford's map. (I'll have to come back to this spot later, once I've gotten leveled up.) He had tried a variety of tactics to fill the spot, other than entering the city itself. The word back at camp was monsters would spawn upon entering the city, so as long as the two didn't enter, the two were safe. Oxford also tried walking as close to the city as possible, seeing if the invisible system that governed the in-game life would allow Oxford to see what was in the city on his map. Sometimes he would poke the section with his quill, just to see if he would get a reaction out of it. Nothing. (Well, it was worth a shot.) He rolled up his map and traded it out for his notebook again, writing down general observations of area. Soon, he began to find himself walking around, not really doing much of anything, just making weird little doodles as he ambled about the place. He could hear the little forest sprite of the other Scribe making its own observations, often hearing the word 'turtle', which made him think that it was talking about him. (Seriously, what is it with turtles?) Getting frustrated at the lack of information on the city, Oxford removed his armor and began to climb one of the trees. Making sure the branches were steady, Oxford found himself at the right height, giving him a good view inside the city. However, some problems arose for him when he looked down at his map and realized how very high up he was. Vertigo began to set in, Oxford holding on to the trunk as he steadied himself. Scoria didn't seem to notice that Oxford had disappeared up one of the trees, but surely he would notice Oxford's map on the ground that he had accidentally dropped. Words: 348 OOC Notes: It's not a fear of heights, it's a fear of falling. Tags: Scoria

[Scoria]

Scoria was pleasantly surprised to find that Oxford was in fact, not a complete numbskull. They had managed to make the full perimeter of the Sarum city without even once gathering the aggression of a golem. It was well-received, and although Scoria didn't show it on his face, he had a better opinion of Oxford. The man wasn't nearly as bumbling as he first appeared. Maybe even reliable.

Pft. As if he'd think that. Well, it wasn't wrong to say that Scoria had a better opinion of Oxford. Scoria followed Oxford as they moved, making many of the same observations that he had. He walked along the perimeter of the city, much as Oxford had, trying to gather some system-assisted information, but there wasn't anything there. Eventually, Oxford was moving away once more and... what was he doing? The druid glanced up momentarily and then looked back at the city, switching papers to instead go for the drawing route. While he wasn't as great at what appeared to be note-taking and visual observation, the druid could sketch out his viewpoint of the city from what he could see as well as to continue making notes on the hand drawn map. The thing about the map he had made was that it was more or less completely system unassisted, which resulted in a subpar map and a subpar set of notes.

Scoria wouldn't easily admit it, but he wasn't having a great time with doing this job. He had been fired up, and still was, but the lack of system assistance and any guarantee of result, the lack of a clear goal, the complete lack of support for scribes when it came to crafting... It was frustrating. Scoria's hand fwipped out and caught Oxford's map, handing it to the forest sprite on his back and sending the toddler up into the trees. Although Scoria was doing some sketching, Alraune was up in the trees now, carefully wobbling over to Oxford before placing one of her tiny hands on his shoulder to steady him and hand over the map. The forest and the trees were naturally her domain and, if Oxford looked like he might fall, the forest sprite would do her best to keep him steady. She was grinning up at the taller humanoid, smiling that massive smile and basically acting like Scoria's foil to a t. "I've gotchu, glasses turtle~" The pleasant voice and reassuring grip of the forest sprite might not have been well received, but that was how the sprite was. If Oxford knew what was good for him, he wouldn't reject her in a way that caused her any physical pain. Scoria understood being annoyed, but if the forest sprite fell out of the tree, Scoria might have to make Oxford fall into Cathedral. The player's eyes narrowed as he continued to sketch and keep one ear on the interactions above.

[Tag: @0x1dea ]

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Status: Pixie Stabilizers Activated. All Systems are Turtles. Weapon: Antiqua Longsword (1H) | Armor: Antiqua Plate Armor As the vertigo made itself at home in Oxford, causing his legs to tremble slightly, he almost jumped when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. To have actually jumped would have given the Guardian an all-expenses paid trip back to the Cathedral. He heard a calming, melodic voice, saying that she had a glasses turtle. The pleasant voice was from Scoria's forest friend, beaming a massive grin at him as she handed him the map he had dropped. Oxford graciously accepted his map from her, the pixie's grin infectious as he returned it with a smile of his own. "Oh, thank you...uh, Alraune, wasn't it? You saved me a trip back down." He tucked the map in his inventory, now having two hands to try to maneuver him in a comfortable (and somewhat stable) position in the branches, the inside of the city in clear view. Once he situated himself in his precarious perch, he focused on the city, able to see the various structures and buildings contained inside of it. "Alright, let's see if this makes a difference..." Nothing. Even if he somehow found the technology to create orbital imaging satellites and computers, the result would still be the same. He tapped the map with his quill a couple more times, making sure the system was actually attempting to fill in the map. Nope, still nothing. Might as well have been tapping the imaginary 'Log Out' button that may or may not exist. Sighing, he put up his map, pulling out his notebook to manually sketch out what he saw. A row of buildings here. Some weird, unknown structure there. Piles of boulders scattered in various places. (Huh?) Oxford realized that most cities were essentially ruins, but he'd never seen a distribution of debris like this before. Instead of being distrubted in a seemingly random manner, each pile seemed to be positioned in a somewhat strategic way. For most road intersections, a pile would be near it. A couple would be located near long stretches of buildings, and a couple dozen of piles seemed to be ringed around the handful of large buildings within the city's limits. "Huh. I wonder if that was a game design idea, or if this is being caused by whatever force it was that brought us here..." He mumbled to himself as he thought about it all, trying to make sense of it as he made another note to come back later with a combat party. Leaving the city for another time, Oxford now turned his thoughts to how he could get down without gravity kindly hurtling him to the ground. Words: 438 OOC Notes: -- Tags: Scoria

[Scoria]

Scoria's low-view sketching continued, placing a mark on the map to indicate just where he had been drawing from and the kind of perspective that it gave. Certainly, he was no Artisan, but when it came to copying things, Scribes shone above all. After all, they were the ones who could copy any document with just a glance, so if they couldn't copy something they saw fairly easily, that would just be too unfortunate. Scoria's eyes continued to flick between the view in front of him and the parchment he wrote on, but his ears were focused on the world above him. Namely, the interactions between his forest sprite and that Guardian. His hands almost snapped his quill in half. Her name wasn't Alraune. Certainly, her 'species' might be considered to be of the Alraune variety, but that was the same as calling every human to met 'Human' or calling every Wolf Hair 'Wolf' or something like that.

It sounded extremely derogatory to his ears, and although he understood why Oxford had done it, those reasons weren't the only ones Scoria was frustrated by. The thing he was frustrated by was whichever designer decided to name this particular familiar Alraune of all things. Most people probably didn't know the lore, but Scoria not only knew it, he had spent some time in the library rereading it. So he couldn't accept anyone calling her that, because it wasn't her name. And he never would call her that unless there was a dire circumstance. Certainly, he referred to her by things like 'forest brat' or whatnot, but still. Scoria's expression was fairly hard as he continued to sketch, right up until the forest sprite spoke. "You done, glasses turtle~?!" The forest sprite, having sensed that Oxford was no longer making notes, decided he had spent enough time in the tree. That he was considering leaving by himself was a complete coincidence. Really.

So she, who had been steadying him this entire time, grabbed his back and pulled. Whether Oxford fell due to Alraune or not, or if he was even pulled off the tree, Scoria had overheard enough to stuff his stuff in his pockets and move to catch the man if he fell. If Oxford fell, Scoria would surely catch him. In a princess carry, even. (Oh, Oxford-senpai~) If he didn't fall, then Scoria clearly wouldn't catch the guardian, but no matter what happened, Alraune jumped straight off the branch at Scoria's face like a gorramn facehugger. Ugh. She bit the top of his head like an idiot before taking up her positon in piggyback ride mode, leaving Scoria to just sigh. "By the way, her name isn't Alraune." Not that she had given her name out yet. The forest sprite was surprisingly deceptive. "Shall we head back and make our reports? I'll be putting up a large drawn map of the area with scales, as well as attaching whatever drawings and such I have. It might not seem like 'crafting', but because it's us... We need information before we can craft something." That was how it was. The other crafting types could go ahead and just make the same stuff, but for Scribes, they needed information before they crafted anything new. And from the rumors, it was the scouting party that got things like 'maps' and whatever. Whatever the case was, he was going to have a Sarum map eventually. He'd just make this thing to start. He wasn't sure what Oxford's plan was, but the duo were crafting and proving their worth, so he expected the Guardian to think of something.

[Tag: @0x1dea ]

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Status: Up a Tree Without a Paddle Oxford's thoughts were interrupted by the pixie's question, breaking his flow of concentration as he answered her. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm done. Let's get out of this tree before I fall." Gravity decided to be a kind mistress to Oxford, allowing him to keep his balance as he slowly, but surely, made his way down. Even though the branches held his weight when pulled himself up, he didn't know how they'd act when the Guardian climbed down. He saw the forest pixie leap from her branch, landing on top of her Cleric caretaker's head. (Huh. I wanna try that.) When he found himself within a jumping distance that wouldn't immediately kill him (or cause drop damage), he leaped from the branch. Executing a forward roll to spread out the shock of the height, he stood back up on his feet, wiping off the dirt and bits of grass his armor accrued, relishing in the fact that he did something completely out of character. He rummaged through his inventory, making sure he didn't lose anything important from his momentary display of athleticism. (Good, I've still got my notes.) Scoria had mentioned that Alraune wasn't the forest pixie's name. Closer inspection of the pixie's in-game details revealed that Alraune was her species. Oxford slapped his head at his boneheaded mistake, adding it to his ever-growing collection of blunders. The Cleric was now asking if he was ready to head back to camp and submit their reports. "Yeah, I'll post mine as well, along with some of the notes of the area I jotted down. Wish I could've gotten some info on the monsters, too, but meh. That's for another time." Suddenly, a low growl could be heard rumbling through the area, getting louder but then it stopped. "Whoops, getting hungry. I guess I'm headed back to camp to grab a bite. You wanna come with? My treat." At this, Oxford turned and began walking towards the camp, moving at a decent pace. It was lunch time, and Oxford hadn't brought anything to shut his stomach up. (Man, I sure hope they've got some spicy curry noodles at one of those stalls...) Words: 358 OOC Notes: Last one from me. Tags: Scoria

[Scoria]

Luckily Oxford hadn't tried to jump on the druid. That might have gone really badly, now that he thought about it. Really badly. Oxford seemed sincerely contrite about having accidentally called Alraune the wrong thing, so Scoria quietly forgave him as they moved along. He clearly hadn't meant to do that and although he probably didn't know the lore, he really didn't seem like that bad a dude. Just a little... Scoria remembered back to how the adventure had started. Oxford -had- actually walked up, so maybe the guardian wasn't so timid after all. Scoria's eyes turned towards the camp and then back at Oxford's growling stomach. Was it lunch time already? Scoria had almost expected a golem to rise up out of the ground considering how loud that rumbling had been. Still, if Oxford was that hungry, then there wasn't much choice. So they were heading back to camp. Scoria nodded, but he made sure to add a little addendum at the end. "Just remember that they won't count us as crafters if it looks more like scouting than crafting." Scoria's map certainly might have been good enough for 'crafting', but he was concerned about Oxford's notes. If worst came to worst and push came to shove, Scoria would convince them to accept Oxford's work as proper crafting. He had put in as much work as Scoria had and hadn't screwed up in any obvious way, so Scoria would make sure their joint effort was acknowledged with joint recognition and rewards. Or else.

Scoria's glare was focused on the camp, his steps somewhat heavy with the extra weight on his back. He was somewhat used to the forest sprite's presence by now, as this was her preferred mode of travel, but she was oooh'ing and aaaah'ing at everything. This was a new area, he supposed, so he just let her be for now as the duo made their way into the camp. Rather than stopping at any particular stall, Scoria went straight for a collection of apples, dropping change and then some at the owner and picking up about two apples, an orange, and some cauliflower. Because Scoria was a MAN and did MANLY things, he just ate the cauliflower raw, as though it was an apple. Speaking of apples, Alraune had nabbed one and was quietly munching it above Scoria's head. He'd probably grab something like trail mix later, but for now, he'd returned to following Oxford. He kind of looked like he was searching for something in specific...? "Have a preference?" Scoria's glare and words were sharp, to the point where it almost sounded like he was saying "don't be so picky", but he did actually mean it sincerely. Oxford had done a good job and Scoria was not opposed to spending a little extra time so the man could be rewarded for his hard work.

[Tag: @0x1dea ]