[Commerce] In Gold We Trust

[Fletcher]

It was early morning. The sun had risen over Londinium and an amber wash gave everything a warm glow. Fletcher got up out of bed, yawning. Carbuncle was cuddled up next to him, still fast asleep due to the hour in which they had awoke comparatively to when they normally got up. The night before, Fletcher had gotten himself a miniature Quest from a couple of Merchants looking to have a couple of adventurers escort them from Londinium to Sarum after some disturbances within the Windsor Greatwood. Fletcher agreed and said he had someone in mind to assist so they needn’t look further for additional help. The downside however was that they were leaving early, but the pay was supposedly good. The dwarf believed that there was a small amount of comaradarie between him and another dwarf he had ventured out with before and that alone seemed like enough of a reason to invite him along to share in the spoils.

Of course, there were other reasons. The last time they had ventured together he had noted that he was a Tailor. Looking down at the clothes he was still wearing, Fletcher sighed still not having found anything to replace his beginner attire. He’d sent a message to Sark the night before with the place to meet assuming he was interested in some easy money. ”Come on, Carbuncle. Time to go.” The small blue fox yawned and scrambled up onto Fletcher’s shoulders before the pair of them headed out into the tavern. There was a possibility that Sark had found his way here and decided to stay the night, but in all honesty he’d just relied on Sark rocking up at the time and place without asking for details as to where he was or what he was up to. From the second floor of the tavern he headed down, said hello to the people working behind the bar in preparation for the morning rush and headed out into the crisp morning air.

The air was cold and Fletcher could see the condensation escape as he breathed out. Carbuncle wasn’t sure of what to make at it and tried biting at the small clouds escaping its mouth. The Summoner wished he had something warmer, but hopefully after talking to Sark about things he could arrange for his next set of clothes to at least include pockets. Turning to head towards the entrance to the outside world and the Windsor Greatwood, he could see the merchants and their wagon packed and ready to go whenever the pair of adventurers arrived. ”Mornin’!” Fletcher called out, raising a hand in a casual wave. The merchants waved him over, seemed to have only just finished preparing their wagon and were settling down for some breakfast.

“Glad you could make it. Sorry for the early start, we’ve got a long way ahead of us.’ The male merchant spoke first before taking a swig of a hot drink in his mug. This Person of the Land was called Johan, and he was about the same age as Fletcher was by appearances. He’d been a merchant his whole life, taking over from his own father when he was just a boy.

“Here, I made something for breakfast for you and your friend. Is he on his way?” Clara, Johan’s wife and also merchant in her own right, offered out a small handkerchief with filled scones out to the dwarf to take; another one already set aside for when or if Sark were to arrive. The then pulled out another batch for her and her husband to enjoy as the three of them awaited the arrival of their fourth member. “He sounds capable from what you told us last night, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Johan nodded inbetween sips from his mug. ‘Mmm. We’re mighty grateful for the two of you to agree on helping us out on such short notice, too.” Johan looked to their mule who was to be pulling the wagon, clicking his tongue. “We should make it there by sundown if nothing goes horribly awry, but I’m sure you and your friend can deal with whatever if anything were to come up.” Fletcher just nodded and waited for Sark to arrive; after all, there was nothing they could do until he did.

Word Count: 719
Total Word Count: 719
Sark

[Sark]

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HP: 96% MP: 100% - EQUIPMENT - Starter Greatsword (2h) Sark's L. Leather Pauldrons -- SKILLS - None Active - Words: 485 Tags: Fletcher OOC: I assume at end of thread Sark will make said clothes?

The merchants ate their breakfast with the efficiency of people used to roadfar. The scones, still warm and steaming in the early morning air, were devoured quickly, but still appreciated. A flask of tea was opened, and handed around the circle before the pair of merchants dusted their hands and stood up, and began to move behind then around the wagon to get to the driver's seat. "Well, sunlight is burning. I'm sure your fr--" "Hi I'm here!" Sark shouted in a loud, childish voice. He had been standing silently around the edge of the wagon for the last 5 minutes, waiting for someone to turn the corner and notice him. He gave a friendly wink to the merchant to assure him it was all fun & games, before scampering over to the scone. After thanking Clara for the meal, Sark shoved the scones into his voluminous pant pockets. Without waiting for orders, he helped clear away the last bits & pieces onto the wagon, before helping to hitch the mule. He chatted aimlessly all the while, commenting on the crisp weather, if there was a chance of a shower, and if anyone else saw that bird flitting in the woods. Sark had helped a number of carts in the past, back when he was trying all the different roles, but didn't realise you still needed to change classes. He'd spent 3 months as a courier and 2 months as a farmer before he had realised his mistake. Still, while he did not have the levels to show it, the dwarf knew his way around a merchant's wagon. Finally, with the wagon ready and the mule taking the weight of the cart, Sark turned his attentions to Fletcher. He dashed over to the older dwarf before beaming a smile. "Fletcher!" He cried, "Thanks again for setting me up with this. It's been a good year or more since I helped out the locals like this. I forgot how good it feels! Helping others, seeing things, being on the road... It. Is. Awesome!" The pair of dwarves chatted as they moved up in front of the wagon, keeping 5 or so paces ahead to keep an eye out for any danger.  The sun broke from the horizon and began its ascent as the group of 4 left the outskirts of Londinium, and began to pass through the brief network of villages that surrounded Londinium. Before long they would be in the Greatwood Proper, where their roles would become more critical, but they had a little time to spare. "So tell me Fletcher," he inquired, "you mentioned something about clothes? I can see from what you're wearing, you're still in your beginner basics ... aren't they feeling a little restrictive now? At your level your own constitution would be providing more defense than these, and uh ... they're also starting to get a bit ... faded."

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[Fletcher]

As breakfast came to a close and the three travellers stood, Fletcher sighed, looking around for any sign of Sark. He was a little bit disappointed to say the least, thinking that he’d show up or at least have a reply to his message by now to give some indication as to whether or not he was coming. The dwarf shook his head, following Johan and Clara to the wagon in order to get going; if they were planning on getting to Sarum by the end of the day, they had to leave now. It was then that Fletcher heard a very familiar voice shout out to signal his arrival. Clara shrieked in surprised and Johan looked to Fletcher for conformation that this was who they were waiting for.

Slightly embarrassed but too tired enough to really care much about it, Fletcher nodded to Johan, who in turn got a wink from Sark before the second dwarf tucked into some breakfast. Although the term ‘tucked’ meant more literally tucking them into his pockets as opposed to the implied meaning of eating them, Sark jumped from that into helping finish up preparing for departure without missing a beat. Johan and Clara warmed up to Sark fairly quickly, and it was hard not to. His cheery demeanour for so early was a nice change of pace and kept the mood high as the last few things they needed to do were finished off. They were finally ready to go before Sark came over and greeted Fletcher proper, although it was a tribute to his work ethic, the older dwarf paid the young one credit.

”No sweat. These two needed the help of some adventurers and for whatever reason, you were the first one that came to mind.” He finished with a warm smile, the tips of his moustache curling upwards as he did so. He honestly didn’t know why he’d thought of Sark when putting together this party, although there was every likelihood that it was because they were in the tavern where they first met. It could have also been the large sword that he used being something to put at ease potentially on-edge merchants protecting cargo. Fletcher looked to Johan. ”Sark and I will take the front and keep an eye out.’

Johan nodded, already climbing into position at the front of the wagon and taking the reins. Clara meanwhile was sitting on the canvas covering the cargo, holding onto one of the rails that lined the sides of the cart to stop things from pouring out. They set off from Londinium, cobblestone pathing quickly becoming dirt as they approached the entrance to the Windsor Greatwood. It was through here that they needed to head, and then out the other side to get to the road that led to Sarum. The main problem was the Greatwood supposedly, with monsters being the main reason the two merchants needed adventurers to help out. Once they emerged from the other side of the woods, they’d have to trek down the road, across the frontier before reaching Sarum.

Sark then piped up, calling Fletcher’s attention away from scanning the landscape. Sark broached the part of his message that he was hoping to get to at some point. The other dwarf pointed out how used his clothes had become. They were faded, worn in places, a few minor tears on the cuffs, and were generic enough for him to be mistaken as a Person of the Land if they saw him at a distance. Yes…” Fletcher spoke quietly, looking down at his clothes briefly before returning to scan the landscape. ”I recalled you being a Tailor, so I was hoping you might be able to make me something to replace what I’ve currently got. Make me look the part of a Summoner a bit better.” Fletcher scratched his beard before continuing. ”That’s assuming you’re both able and willing. I’d be able to reimburse you with the money needed, or perhaps if you wanted a Magic Accessory as payment I could make you one of equal cost to what you make me?

Ideally, Fletcher wanted the classic mage look but fancier, or at the least more Summoner-esque as opposed to just being a wizard. Not that being a wizard was bad, he just figured he’d leave that particular look to the actual Sorcerers. “How are we faring, guys?” Johan called out from behind the two dwarves, checking in to see if anything had come up yet as they approached the Greatwood entrance. Fletcher had a scan and could see movement amongst the tree line of the Greatwood.

”I see movement up ahead, but we’ve got time. When we get into the thick of the woods though that will change. Sark and I will do what we can, but keep an eye out behind us just in case.” Fletcher called back, giving Johan a quick look before returning his eyes forward. He then looked to Sark, smiling again. ”I hope you’re ready, we’re going to need to be exemplary dwarves soon.”

Word Count: 844
Total Word Count: 1563

[Sark]

stat widget coded by Oxford of ET

HP: 100% MP: 100% - EQUIPMENT - Starter Greatsword (2h) Sark's L. Leather Pauldrons -- SKILLS - None Active - Words: 930 Tags: Fletcher OOC: Fight, flee, avoid, something else: Your choice! 8D

Sark nodded enthusiastically at Fletcher. His elder dwarf was going to be his first customer, so Sark wanted to make the best thing he possibly could. As the summoner described his ideal clothes, Sark mentally began to reference it against the silks and cottons he already owned, and his more fuzzy memory of what he'd seen in stores. From what Fletcher had described something with voluminous sleeves, a tall collar and a cape sounded apt, maybe with some fur dyed the colour of carbuncle's to better tie in the theme. Its style would be balanced by its utility of deep pockets, something that would resist the gentle claw-work of his companion blue fox, and if Sark could work out how, even enchanted. He'd heard that the best tailors were able to enchant the clothes to give benefits such as increased HP, but Sark himself was yet to learn the secret of this "equipment reforge." Sark quizzed his temporary partner more about colour schemes, what textures were preferred and tried to get a feel for his first customer. The idea was both nerve wracking and exciting, leaving Sark's palms sweaty and his face abuzz with shifting smiles and grimaces. There was the fear that his work would not be good enough, especially for an adventurer more advanced that Sark. Sark had not checked on the level of his companion, but there were the little clues like how easily this magic-based companion had lifted the heavy keg of water, and the well groomed state of his summoned companion. Although each adventurer had their own code of conduct, for Sark it seemed just rude to learn objective information about people such as the class, levels, HP or adventuring status. It just felt too invasive, like a facebook stalking gone wrong. So enraptured by the concept of designing for another Sark didn't even consider payment. He identified himself as a crafter now, and the odd jobs and occasional hunting he did was enough to keep his piggy bank growing. Even since he had swallowed his fears and began to be more active his life had taken huge steps forward. Sark now felt capable, confident and comfortable in his life. He had even placed an order for a new weapon to be made, and he trusted his fellow crafter enough to simply ask for "something heavy and two handed" to the smith. It was at Fletcher's reminder to be an exemplary dwarf that Sark reluctantly turned his focus back to his job. He liked crafting. He also liked this guard work as it directly helped the citizens, but it was crafting that had sunk its teeth into Sark. Sark took a deep breath, and focused as he exhaled. His cheery demenour subsided with the spark of life in his eyes dulling as his eyebrows drew together. "Right. Johan and Clara are relying on us." Looking over at the merchants, he nodded solemnly. "With your life in our hands, we'll keep you safe." Using hand signals common to many Londinium adventurers, Sark indicated he would take the far left side of the road, and for Fletcher to take somewhere on the right. The movement that his companion noticed was some distance away, but Sark didn't want to take any chances. As they approached the treeline the younger dwarf slipped ahead and nimbly climbed up the trees. He relied on his enhanced jumps to scale through the branches, as his height was far too short to climb in the tradtional sense. As he crested a thick branch he slithered across it to try to spot what the movement was. There, on the edge of the forest was a small group of boars. Three pittered boars were digging through the roots of a tree, while an adult lazed in the shade of an older tree to keep watch. A final boar, this one twice of the size of its companions, surveyed the land in a proprietry way. Its looked more like  a rhino than a boar, with thickly muscled shoulders giving it an obvious hunch, and its tusks more than twice the size of its companions, growing thick and old from its mouth. A thin mane of grey hair traveled down its spine, highlighting the age of the beast. Sark whistled quietly when he saw it. He'd fought many boars on the German server he used to play on, and had even fought the field boss 'Iron Tusked Gerald' a few times. Gerald, as he was fondly know, had been a popular sub-boss due to tusked helmet it frequently dropped which gave a bonus to health. Sark hadn't known it had come across to the UK server, as he'd never seen anyone wearing the hat since. Either the drop was gone, it had been made rare, or few people chose to fight the boar. The samurai knew that he himself certainly didn't want to fight this one. Slithering down the tree, he waved his companion in and explained the situation to the other three. "We've spotted a family of boar. These could charge the wagon and damage your goods, especially Gerald." At the blank looks the merchant gave, Sark elaborated. "It's a fairly powerful boss of the area - the lord of the boars, the boss boar, the tusked top dog. We might be able to fight it, but I'd much prefer to avoid it. "So I recommend we travel slow and quiet for the next few minutes until we pass by. Thoughts?" He directed the last at Fletcher, who had become the impromptu leader of the guards.

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Iron-Tusked Gerald
Level: 10
Type: Beast
Rank: Elite
Nature: Wary
Found in: Windsor Greatwood
Weakness/Resistances: None
Skills:
- Protectionist: Young Pittered Boars and Pittered Boars take 25% less damage when this monster is within 5 meters.
- Rampant Charge: The monster attacks the target head-on and attempts to gouge them with their tusks. Targets who did not defend against this blow suffer minor bleeding damage for the next 30 seconds.
- Boar Cry: Summons 1 Young Pittered Boar and 1 Pittered Boar as reinforcements. They immediately aggro onto the target that the monster is fighting.
Description: One of the lowest-leveled Elite monsters available for beginner Adventurers to fight. Its displayed level is 10 but it fights like a Level 15 monster and possesses a fair bit more HP, so be warned. This rare spawn of a large mountain boar is distinctive in its large tusks roughly twice the length of a regular Pittered Boar's. It spawns near the beginner areas of the Greatwood and is not initially aggressive unless an Adventurer harms a fellow boar while in its direct line of sight.

Pittered Boar
Level 6-10
Type: Beast
Rank: Normal
Nature: Wary
Found in: Fields and Forests
Weakness/Resistances: None
Skills: None
Description: A full grown Pittered Boar characterized by a rather calm, docile personality despite the two tusks that protrude from its mouth. While they make for great food, hunting them down and capturing them without killing them is another matter entirely. Once agitated, the monster holds a large aggro time and has been known to chase less prepared adventurers all the way back to town.

3x Young Pittered Boar
Level 1-5
Type: Beast
Rank: Normal
Nature: Docile
Found in: Fields and Forests
Weakness/Resistances: None
Skills: None
Description: Due to the fields luscious grasses, boars of all ages emerge to eat their fill throughout the day. In doing so, many boars bring their young so as to keep watch over them. These young are fairly weak in comparison to their older counterparts, with a distinct feature being the lack of tusks.

[Fletcher]

Johan nodded at Sark, visibly reassured by the younger dwarf’s confidence in keeping them safe. Clara kept a look out behind, stating that there was nothing coming up their rear so they were good to proceed in her books.

Sark made some hand gestures that he eventually translated to meaning for him to take the right hand side of the path while he took the left. He was never good at hand signals, so it was clearly his own fault given how confidently and with purpose Sark had delivered them. Was this some new lingo that the kids used to relay information similar to abbreviating everything when sending a text message? In any case, when they were in position they moved right up to the tree line before the caravan halted. Sark jumped in amongst the trees and disappeared up one of the trees overhanging the border to the Greatwood, displaying his proficiency in being an Acrobat. Sark was not gone long and returned with the update on what their situation was. Fletcher came over from his side of the road, Johan helped Clara down off the wagon and the three of them listened in to Sark’s explanation of what was going on just beyond the tree line.

Gerald…

He knew that name and Fletcher froze, colour draining from his face. The two merchants exchanged a confused look between each other before looking back to the younger dwarf. As Sark explained, Fletcher began to feel faint; that thing almost killed him, and he wasn’t exactly sure he was in any position to head back and take down him plus any cronies he had with him. Even with Carbuncle, that left the effective combat party at three members, plus two non-combatants they had to make sure suffered not even a scratch. It would be wisest to not go anywhere near them if they could avoid it; if Fletcher hadn’t already agreed to help them out he’d be going home or even trying his luck in the sewers against the rat men. The party looked to him before he noticed, looking visibly distraught about Gerald. ”I’ve had a bad run in with Gerald and his family in the past. If we were to engage, I do not have much faith that we’d be getting out of that one in one piece.”

Clara seemed concerned, and piped up soon after. “What will we do? We have to get to Sarum!” She looked between Fletcher and Johan, then to Sark before her husband placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He smiled and looked to Sark, giving him his approval to follow the younger dwarf’s advice and taking the more cautious route. There was no point continuing headlong into a sure death, but they had to get through somehow.

“As little noise as we can would be preferable. We’re trusting the both of you to do what it takes to get through.” Johan looked to Fletcher when he finished speaking the same way that Sark had done after speaking.

The older dwarf sighed and then looked to Sark. ”Alright, you take point, and let us know if they’re figured out we’re here, Sark. Worst case scenario, I’ll cover the wagon as Johan and Clara make their escape.” With that, Johan and Clara got back onto the wagon and the party headed forwards into the Windsor Greatwood.

Word Count: 562
Total Word Count: 2125

[Sark]

HP: 96% MP: 100% - EQUIPMENT - Starter Greatsword (2h) Sark's L. Leather Pauldrons -- SKILLS - None Active - Words: 686*1.1 Art bonus = 754 Tags: Fletcher OOC: I assume at end of thread Sark will make said clothes?

Sark kept an eye on the brushland around them while he waited for his two charges and companion to discuss their options. During the wait he padded over to the draft animal pulling the cart, and pet its nose, keeping the animal calm and amused. He had done some guarding prior so knew how these things tended to work. It might take the three of them a minute to decide, or as long as an hour depending on how many contesting personalities were about. It was part of the reason he didn't like to be in positions of authority in commercial ventures like this; there was so much talking and often so little action. The decision makers were held responsible for any problem, regardless of their actual liability.  That is why he preferred to report what he knew and let others take the burden of what choice to make. It was an odd side to Sark, who was generally friendly, simple and energetic. His reluctance was borne of experience, where in one of his very few outing during his apathetic days he'd offerred to lead some merchant's to a small farm on the outskirts of Londinium. The danger had been almost non-existant, with the merchants wanting the protection more for the sake of status than aide. Along the road an axle had snapped in a pothole, and Sark had been routed blamed as he had not 'protected' them. Arguments had gone on for hours about why it had happened and whose fault it was, and in the end Sark had been brow beaten until he agreed to drag each plank of hard lumber to the farm. They'd been too large to fit into his pack, and it had taken Sark the entire night to get it done. He'd vowed to never work again, but like many things at that time, it was a decision he did not keep. The teen came back to reality when Fletcher began to speak his direction. A small smile grew as he listened; there had been no arguing really, just a show of mutual respect and a reminder of their goal. Travelling with groups like these made Sark feel proud to be an adventurer, there was a sense that he was improving the world in some small way. "Right!" he cheered brightly, "I'll take point, and keep quiet." The diminutive samurai tightened the straps on his armour and the baldric for his sword and lightly jogged ahead. He was first into the treeline, where he slowed his pace down to match the cart. He took a moment to survey his surroundings. The woods were full of straight, tall trees that seemed lifted directly from the English countryside. Some of the leaves were just starting to turn yellow at their tips, with last year's leaf mulch thick everywhere on the ground except for the packed dirt path that ran like an arrow through the woods. Here and there a deer or frenic rabbit could be seen, and if he knew where to look, then he could just make out the grey mane of Gerald, who seemed to be lazing about like usual. He gestured that all seemed okay. The merchant couple seemed tense, and the pack animal was beginning to pick up on the atmosphere. It wheezed nervously, but kept the slow pace that its bridle demanded. There was a tenseness that seemed to grow, and across the next few minutes Sark began to look around more and more. His chest began to tighten as the tension grew. Finally, like the trumpet from Revelations, there was the noise of a balloon loudly deflating. 'Gerald's Taunt!' Looking towards the horizon, Sark could see Gerald rear up, steam rising from his open mouth. He landed back on all fours, and began his infamous charge. Squeels announced his cavalry. But they weren't heading towards them, and seemed to be dashing towards a distant source of aggression. The tension snapped like a string, and Sark was free of it. A hearty smile bloomed in its place with a chuckle escaping from his throat. They were safe!

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[Fletcher]

The Windsor Greatwood was a large and imposing place. It was one of the starting areas, or at least intended ones, so a lot of the dangers here posed little problem to the pair of combat savvy dwarves. However, in the instances that Gerald fell under, there were still dangers lurking in amongst the brush so they had to be wary. Sark had given them the go ahead for keeping quiet and sneaking past the leader of the boars. One day he’d return and enact his revenge on the boar, but that wait for a much later date. Much later. Perhaps when he had at least another fifty levels under his belt and could unleash the full terror of some unbridled beast he’d come back and equalise the trauma that the boar had done to him.

It was petty, but Fletcher restrained himself from doing that. He’ be back sooner to have a fair fight but for now they were escorting some merchants. The caravan entered the forest and slowly progressed forward with Sark leading the march past the family of boars. Johan and Clara were tense, hearing the snuffling about of boars and the sounds of other monsters around them. While to the adventurers they were of little consequence, to People of the Land though, death was a very permanent thing. Sark stopped suddenly, listening out before motioning them to follow. Fletcher was amazed and thankful that the mule pulling the wagon hadn’t so much as whinnied to draw the attention of Gerald and his family. He jinxed it; the mule had started to wheeze out of anxiety after picking up on the vibe amongst the group. The atmosphere around the caravan became more pressured the further in, they travelled into the wood, with Sark’s behaviour becoming more accelerated.

That’s when they heard it, the sound of something with a breathing problem or a prankster with a busted whoopee cushion. Fletcher froze, looking about, first and foremost to Sark. The other dwarf was staring off into the distance; squeals now echoing through the trees. Then there was silence, and Sark was smiling. “Is… Are we safe?” Clara asked in uncertainty, clutching herself after so long of being under the torment of being pressured into silence. Fletcher frowned, looking around before he too found the tension easing from his shoulders and he sighed out a breath, giving Carbuncle a small pet to double check he’d not run off.

“I believe so.” Fletcher stretched out, causing the fox on his shoulder to also rebalance itself to avoid falling off its perch. ”Sark, how’s Gerald? If he’s gone then I think we should be good to move further in, still a long way to go before we hit Sarum.”

Johan spoke up, mustering a strong tone. “That’d be mighty wise. Being on edge makes Clara and I… well, it’s not the best feeling to say the least.” He exchanged a wry smile with his wife before getting the mule back on pace.

The way ahead was mostly clear, although the party had only been marching for a short time. Granted, ‘short’ was in the eyes of the beholder when realistically after leaving and getting to the woods, then to where they were now, they had been travelling for a solid two hours. The path ahead forked to either the Savill Flower Grove or the Windsor Castle Grounds. Both routes would eventually take them to Sarum, but each posed their own dangers. Going closer to the castle would be stronger enemies, getting close to the danger level of Gerald. The grove was problematic in its own way, with its setup being like a labyrinth, meaning they could be trekking for hours and making no progress. The pair of merchants stopped the wagon at the crossing and dismounted, checking the condition of their wares and the mule. ”Savill Flower Grove or Windsor Castle? Long and easy or short and difficult, it seems. ” Carbuncle chirruped happily and then disappeared back into the ether, conscious of the strain on its master’s MP pools now that they were at the half way mark.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the flowers after that close call with the boars…” Clara spoke softly, putting on a fragile façade although it could have just as easily been genuine.

“Honey, after the boars, I wouldn’t mind getting out onto the frontier as soon as possible,” Johan folded his arms and appeared to be in deep thought, eyes closed. “We could make a break for it through the path running along the outskirts of the castle, if we’re lucky again we might not be spotted.” It was a plan, that’s for sure; although time would tell if it would actually be successful if they went that direction. Clara meanwhile had fished out some snacks from the wagon and started handing them out to everyone, small trail ration type things, mostly seeming to be a mix of dried fruits and nuts. Fletcher took his and snacked in silence, looking to Sark, waiting for his take on the matter. They were looking to be here for a little bit given the lack of monster spawns, so if Sark had anything he needed to do, now was the time.

Word Count: 873
Total Word Count: 2998

[Sark]

Fletcher asked for an update on the Gerald situation, and with a guilty start the samurai realised that while he knew what had happened, he had failed as a scout to pass that information along. With the relief of silence still prominent in his mind, the teen raised his voice to his companions

”Something else drew aggro. I think there must be some other adventurers about!”

He cheered as he jogged back to the cart. He gave a quick summary of his findings, before rejoining the caravan. It was true that the forest itself could be hiding many monsters, but after the event with Gerald, Sark felt that he could let his guard slip for a while. The four of them travelled for a few hours until reaching a fork in the road. A squat monolith announced that to the left was the Windsor Castle, while to the right was Flower Grove. After reading these signs, Sark straightened from his squat and headed over the group. They seemed to already know what the sign had said, and were already discussing their options. Both would involve a fair amount of sight seeing for Sark, who had never screwed up the courage to visit the castle grounds nor the now-wild flower gardens. The former was said to be run by a real beast of a monster, whose weakness was a rose and employed a limited number of powerful guards. The latter was a former manicured garden, run wild with both flowers and monsters.

”A hard choice!” he crowed. ”Pretty things are on both paths, so I guess it really comes down a preference, hey? Oh, and whether we want a quantity of enemies of a quality of enemies …”

Clara gave a small start at this casual appraisal of monsters, which Sark failed to notice in his musings. He took the trail rations with a distracted nod, trying to think of their options. He still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of taking control, but the silence was beginning to stretch as each person considered their options.

”Well, I guess for me I am better at defending against 1 powerful enemy rather than several weaker ones. I’d hate for your stock to get snatched by those Briar Weasels, or for one of you to be wounded. The courtyard of the castle might be easier then …” he offered hesitantly.

This comment was added into the discussion. Sark subsided again, hesitantly eating his way through the salty nuts and oily dried fruits. The adults were talking, so he let his attention drift. Around him was the sound of a young bird insistently demanding to be fed, while small families of squirrels raced through the undergrowth collecting nuts and berries. It was a peaceful sort of setting, with the soul-soothing tranquillity common in the natural monster-bane areas. If he made the effort, he could see the zone he was in was called [The Crossing for The Beauty or the Beast] and judging from the shade of the zone name, it was a non-combat area. It was nice here, and taking a deep breath of loam-scented air the teen could imagine living in an area like this.

He continued to admire and snack. By the time he had finished and wiped his fingers off on his pants, the adults had made their decision. They phrased it as a request, but Sark understood it as directions. He nodded and stood up from the sun-warmed rock he had been sitting on. While the mule was rehitched, Sark took his time to stretch out, working his shoulders and back for the inevitable workout they would get further along the route. His combat style placed a lot of pressure on his body, and in the early days of training with this ‘full-simulation’ style of combat, he had pulled more muscles than he cared to remember.

Working on a shoulder, Sark spared the time to give his comrades a thumbs-up. ”We can do this guys, just rely on me to keep you safe!”

Clara did not seem to take this as well as Sark intended, as her only reply was a long, frank stare until her husband touched her hand.

The group got back to the road, and back into the forest proper. Before long the canopy had enveloped them and the wary atmosphere rapidly returned. Birds still called out, but the rustling in the leaf piles now seemed slightly more ominous, and the small shapes darting between the trees made Sark start rather than chuckle. Frenic Rabbits & Briar Weasels were common within the woodlands, with the latter monsters having a cruel streak in their nature. He had to stay on guard.

With only one small hiccup of a single Briar Weasel, the group reached the castle grounds within an hour. It marked the halfway point of their destination, with the castle strategically built between Londinium and Sarum so it could react to a threat from either direction. The dusty road lead directly to the Gatehouse, whose barricade lay torn aside and under a spare growth of weeds. Sark had heard that the place had been ransacked by some adventurers in the early days, but a monstrous butler had appeared and decimated the party the party. The survivors had fled, and since that time the stories about the castle had only grown. Looking at it made Sark shiver.

He hid this beneath the veneer of a smile, and turned towards his dwarvish companion. ”This is great! You and me can see something only a few have! And to make things even cooler, we’re helping out these nice folk.

Let’s get through her though before that butler comes out, yeah?”

Samurai: _________ 14 Tailor:  ___________ 15 Acrobat: _________ 01

Word Count: 949 x1.1 Oct Art Bonus = 1043

Pokes: Fletcher

OOC: New template aww yis

Skill Descriptions:
Chain 1: "Lightspeed" Denkosetta, "Steel-Cutting Blade" Zantetsuken
Chain 2: "Flashwave" Shunsen
Chain 3: "Blade Clone" Tsuguri Bunshin, "Divinity Slash" Seinaru Shinken
Not Chain: Spear Break

[Fletcher]

It was a relief to hear that Gerald has passed onto other prey, while it was unfortunate for the other adventurers to have to face the boar, unless they were also accompanying landers, then their plight was more dire than whoever the boar decided to pursue. Sark’s cheerful demeanor was ever refreshing to their journey and they continued on and reached the fork in the road as to where they are now. Sark’s read on the choices were similar to his own, leaving Fletcher contemplating over which route truly was the better option. If Clara had a preference based on danger, then perhaps that should be the way they should go?

Sark pointed out the advantage of going the castle grounds route. While there were more powerful enemies, it was easier to defend against one strong enemy than many weaker ones; if Sark was able to also tank the hits of the monsters, he could take care of healing him back up. Because of this fact alone, the courtyard was seeming the better option especially when they had to keep the lives of two others kept safe, on top of the cargo that they brought with them. Sark began stretching while Clara and John made sure everything was in order on their cart before they were set to head off, while Fletcher remained standing at the crossroads trying to weigh up the correct decision in the truest sense. The pair of merchants they were with must be only recently branching out beyond Londinium, as their reactions to where they were and what was left to go was as if they were experiencing all of this for the first time. Clara had a distant stare to her face in worry at times, and seemed to only snap back to reality when Johan intervened.

No matter which angle that Fletcher saw the problem from, the only way to go was through the castle grounds; they had to if there was going to be any other moments like Clara spacing out; it meant they could tackles the problems as they arose, one at a time. It took them an hour, but they reached the outer limits of the Windsor Castle area zone only after a single run in with a Brier Weasel. He didn’t know much, if anything about the castle aside from it was a home to many a stronger enemy than he was now. He’d have to come back later to have a proper look, and possibly with a raiding party just so he didn’t get caught off guard. Fletcher could only nod as Sark’s glee passed over the group like another refreshing wind. There was a noticeable drop in volume from all four of them as they passed the grounds. Skeletons and other higher levelled baddies roamed the grounds in slow, almost predatorial movements; but it seemed that the wagon and its escort were outside of their detection range.

This particular stretch of the journey was a slower one, and after another couple of hours they emerged almost unharmed from the denser parts of the wood. They had another run in with a Brier Weasel, but the exit to the woods was right before them with the trees thinning out closer to where the frontier started. When they hit the frontier, all they needed to do was follow the road down and they were in Sarum; they didn’t have far left to go at all.

Word Count: 575
Total Word Count: 3573

[Sark]

Sark was determined to stay enthused while he passed through the Windsor Castle. He did not have the personal experience with the danger like he had with Iron Tusked Gerald, and he did not want to stress out the People of the Land companions. They passed along the outskirts of the Windor Castle, keeping the the walls and shadows where they could. As the minutes passed Sark's enthusiasm turned from forced to genuine; in a way it was exciting to see these sights, and the danger had not reared its head. The four of them were seeing a rare sight; few had gone to the castle since its initial exploration for fear of the danger. The danger remained regardless of personal skill. Even the high leveled elite, those god-like level 90s found themselves leveled down by the system when nearing the castle.

Across the entire courtyard Sark quietly and enthusiastically pointed out various exciting things like topiary rose bushes and an animated skeleton, all the while with a goofy grin stuck to his face.

They safely passed through the castle, leaving Sark with a mixture of relief that they were safe and regret that he had not explored the grounds more. He made a mental note to return to better explore the unique environment there.

The quarto continued on, Sark and Fletcher trading positions of rear and front guard while passing through the thicker, older Windsor forest. Within a few more hours they reached the edge of the forest. A vast plains land stretched before them. Gentle hills rose and fell for miles ahead. A gentle wind could be seen as its front raced through the tufted grass that populated much of the landscape. It was an awe inspiring sight, instantly making its viewer both awed and belittled.

"Wow ... " Was all Sark could breathe, his mind too focused on the majesty of the landscape to form complex notions. Seeing Sark's reaction, Clara nudged her husband. They shared a small smile together, taking enjoyment vicariously from Sark's first time. After a few well meaning jibes the four continued on. The road was safe now, so they all hopped onto the cart to enjoy the last leg. Sark kept jumping free of the cart to run out into the plains, exploring a small waterhole, what was behind a ridge or a hundred other excitements.

With the sun setting they reached the outer edge of the town, which was strangely pristine in the post apocalyptic world of Elder Tales. They said their goodbyes, and the necessary money was exchanged. With a final few friendly words Sark used his Call of Home skill, instantly returning from Sarum to Londinium.

Samurai: _________ 14 Tailor:  ___________ 15 Acrobat: _________ 01

Word Count: 447

Pokes: Fletcher

OOC:

Skill Descriptions:
Chain 1: "Lightspeed" Denkosetta, "Steel-Cutting Blade" Zantetsuken
Chain 2: "Flashwave" Shunsen
Chain 3: "Blade Clone" Tsuguri Bunshin, "Divinity Slash" Seinaru Shinken
Not Chain: Spear Break