[C/P] Relax, Take It Easy (Saber)

[Elkeid]

The day for Elk started relatively normal. She had just woken up, after spending a good twelve or more hours in her tent. The previous day was one riddled with walking, exploring and evading strange monsters. There were a few chances to rest, but the unknown frontier meant that she and her group had to sleep in shifts, which did not last long at all. The point was that Elkeid was worn out and exhausted, and reflected that in her change of sleeping pattern. The woman usually slept five to six hours, a good amount for her body to live off of. In the case of little gotten sleep, however, she could easily sleep two days’ worth, such as now.

She squinted as she stepped out of her tent, well aware that the time was closer to noon than morning. It may even be after noon, for all she knew. Elkeid rubbed at her eyes. It was probably too late to jump into a scouting or combat mission, and would be even later when the next rotation came around, not to mention that she would want to start as early as possible. The aching in her body was alleviated now, so that was a bit disappointing. 'There's always tomorrow, I guess,' she thought as she watched a small group of Adventurers make their way out of the camp. Oh well. This gave Elk a chance to catch up and rest, anyway.

The camp was bustling with activity, a sight she normally missed when out on missions or resting in her tent. A flock of Scribes carrying great bundles of parchment ran past her, and a gaggle of Chefs with an assortment of pots, pans, and cooking utensils ran the other way. One of them almost struck her with a stringed up duck. "Ugh." Elk grimaced in distaste as she paused to pick at imaginary duck feathers from her newly crafted armor, courtesy of Hirosame. The redheaded Monk was evidently a tailor for short while, and had offered to make her something that was not poop. The design was hers, but the craftsmanship and reforging was Hiro's. The scarf she proudly wore over it was crafted by a separate tailor, though, and the vanity gear in her inventory was made by a Housekeeper, one who would probably deny all involvement with the garb. These things comforted her a bit, and she was even considering strutting around in her Anarchy Belt when something else caught her attention.

There was a tiny, tiny man near a signboard, flailing his even tinier arms, the hands that were connected to them barely grazing the underside of the board. Elkeid just stared at the little dwarf in silence, and then raised a hand to stifle a rare giggle. What on earth was he up to? She flicked her eyes up, to the signboard. It was a poorly constructed one, perhaps wrought by a low leveled or fledgling Woodcrafter. The words upon it were even cruder. Elkeid had to squint just to read the chicken scratch.

The sign was calling for all crafting classes, from Alchemists to Woodcrafters. Below the header, it listed smaller, harder to read font. Elkeid had to get closer just to read it. The little dwarf perked up and danced a bit more, now spinning his arms so fast that she thought he was going to fly up into the sky. She ignored him altogether when he began shouting, focusing only on the signboard.

"Gather round, gather round! All are welcome, all are welcome! Crafters of all shapes and sizes, we call on you to do your part and help restock food, potion and weapon supplies, as well as repair damaged equipment, construct tents, help tidy up the camp, etc., etc.! Scribes can help with documentation or map construction, Brewers can make drinks to bolster spirits, etc., etc. If you've got a crafting class, we can make good use of it! Gather round, gather round! All are welcome, all are welcome!"

She had to question who put together such a sign, and did not suspect the dwarf beside her to be the culprit. He was just some poor sap who was put on recruiting duty. "Where do we gather for this…" Event? No, that did not sound right. "Who do we report to…?"

The dwarf just grinned stupidly at her. "Oh, there's a delegate for each crafting class, but they mostly send you wandering around the camp - unless you're selling wares or a stationary Blacksmith." Elkeid had no idea what he meant by a "stationary Blacksmith"; it implied that you could smith while running around, but didn't they need a forge for that…? Then again, this was a video game. It wouldn't be too farfetched for smiths to have a skill that allowed them to mend armor and weapons on the fly, but she was doubtful of the quality of such handiwork.

"Alright. I think I'll help out."

Tibbers, as the dwarf was called, handed her a roll of parchment and a quill. When she raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to complain, the dwarf silenced her with a little shake of his head. "It's just so that we know who to reward for their effort." That did it.

"Reward? We get rewards, like the scouting and combat missions?"

"But of course! We reward those who take the time to contribute to the cause."

Elk was sold. This reward might prove helpful to her crafting class somehow, and if not, she could always sell whatever it was to another player. She took the parchment and quill from the dwarf and jotted down her username. The script glowed and pulsed for a moment, as though it were alive. "Materials will be supplied for you, so don't worry about dipping into your own inventory," the dwarf stated as he collected the signup sheet and quill.

She was then directed to a large tent near the middle of the camp, where many an Adventurer was running to and from. A few official looking Landers were handing out materials or ordering players to relocate. One of the Landers, a muscular and heavily bearded dwarf, roughly shoved a large box of bottles of alcohol into her arms. He said nothing to her, but gestured for her to move so that another player could get his box. Someone - a Lander Chef, by the looks of it, was berating his fellow for being too slow, and mentioned something about a feast. Elkeid shuffled away from the tent, glad to not be a Chef today; it sounded like a lot of work.

coded by benetnasch of ET

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[attr="class","alkaid"]

Words:
1014

Muse:
Relax, Take It Easy

Notes:
It's a crafting mission.

Tags:
Saber

[Saber]

Do you believe in ghosts?

“rrrrr….” A low growl echoed in the darkness around where Saber stood. He was nearly blind aside for the street light he stood underneath. Was he back home?

“grrrr… gra… ahhh… sssss…”

“Who’s there?!” Saber reached to his waist, grabbing at where he remembered his sword to be. However, he felt nothing but air. Glancing down he noticed that he wasn’t armed at all. His swords were gone, his knife missing, his throwing blades off his thighs. He didn’t even have his bow and arrows! Where was he…?

“raaaaagggh… hisssssssaaah.” The noise grew louder, and Saber looked all around him for the culprit. However, there was nothing but darkness around him. He felt like clinging to the street lamp, but its base was out of the light. He didn’t want to risk going out there.

“Answer me! Coward!” His shouts were answered only by silence, and that only made things worse. Standing there underneath the street lamp made Saber feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so weak; it was as if he was being hunted. It made him feel out of place. After spending days, months, fighting and being the hunter; this feeling made him feel so… powerless. Yet, he kept his head up. He raised his fists and squeezed them tight.

“Show yourself!”
Oh he would regret that…

Out from the darkness, a massive reptile-like claw slammed onto the ground at the edge of the light. It was so big Saber actually had to move away to give it room. Then, he heard movement. It was the sound of something huge, as large as a building maybe bigger, standing up from where it lay just beyond the light. Following the thick, muscular limb that extended up from the huge foot on the ground, Saber’s eyes began to form the outline of a creature that would make a dragon seem puny. It was larger than some of the titans Saber’s father had told him about, almost as large as Mount Olympus! No… maybe bigger! What the hell?!

“ssssss…. Fool…” That was all Saber heard before the street lamp was smashed and the light vanished.
Da-dum… Da-Dum.. Da.. Dum… Da… Dum… Da…..

“sssssssssaaaaaAAAHHH!” Shooting upright, Saber’s eyes shot open as he started gasping for air. His heart pounded in his chest, his body shook, and he felt drops of sweat fall off his forehead into his lap. He gripped at the ground as if his life depended on it, dug his fingers into the dirt, and pulled a few grains of grass out by their roots. What was that dream…? What was that beast?!

“Damn it…” Cursing at himself for being so afraid, Saber punched the ground with all of his might. That was so pitiful of him. He should have been prepared for it, even if it was just a dream! Never backing down no matter what he was going up against was something his father had taught him well. So why was he so afraid? Was it the size of the thing? Or maybe was it the uncertainty of what it was? No, there was no excuse. There was never an excuse. Next time, he would fight that thing… even if it killed him. For now he would have to go back to his daily life, if he could call it life.

Looking down at himself, Saber noticed that he was still dressed in his Assassin garb from the game, Elder Tale. That meant he was still inside of the place. Great. As if he didn’t have enough to sweat over. However, he wouldn’t whine. He simply stood up, wiped the sweat off his face, and equipped his swords and knife. Moving on and getting through the obstacle in front of him was what he needed to focus on for right now. So that was what he’d do. Without another thought or another question, Saber turned to his left and headed out of the forest and made his way to the Sarum Expeditionary Camp. It had been a long night of fighting so maybe that was why he was having nightmares. Maybe Saber needed a break from the violence…

“Calling all crafters! All crafters! Calling all crafters!” An elf waving a flier was pacing up and down the side of the road, shouting as he did so to try and get the attention of the People of the Land and Adventurers walking around him. Crafting? Oh, right, crafting was still a thing in this world. Saber had been so focused on Sarum that he had completely forgotten that he had a crafting class; he was a blacksmith. No, no he couldn’t craft. At least, that’s what he had to make people think. Wait, no he could tell people he crafted. He just couldn’t tell them who he was, right? He would have to keep that part a secret, for now at least.

“Calling all crafters! Calling all-“ The Elf continued to solicite and waved one of his many fliers around, but when Saber walked up, he seemed to pause at the sight of the tattered player. Saber didn’t acknowledge the staring eyes, he only bothered to look at the fliers.

“I’ll take one.” Saber said as he stopped in front of the Elf. The NPC hesitated again and reluctantly handed Saber one of the papers. The Adventurer didn’t question why the Elf was acting so strangely, but figured it may have been because of how he looked. If that was the case, than his clothes were doing their job.

“Thanks.” With a flyer in hand, Saber separated himself from the Elf and continued up towards the camp. Suddenly, several other players began to bug the Elf for one of the fliers. The game was like follow the leader it seemed. Saber shook his head at the thought and proceeded to read the paper he now held, his eyes glazing over its contents. Saber’s eyes fell on only a few keywords though; weapons, fixing, repair, craft, reward. That was all he needed in order to be interested, and that was all he cared about in general. Life was give and take. Saber didn’t like to take but he at least liked to be rewarded a little during the times when he gave. Even if he didn’t receive anything physical, a smile was enough for him. No thanking though, Saber hated being thanked. It made him feel like someone was in debt to him. Oh god that sucked.

Making his way into the camp, Saber slipped passed a few chefs and cooks who seemed to be in a bit of a hurry. After he passed them, he saw a short dwarf standing by some kind of sign board. He was shouting just like the Elf was, but this one seemed a lot more energetic. Interacting with this fellow seemed deadly, so Saber simply raised the flyer up and pointed at it from a distance. This got the Dwarf’s attention and he struck a pose, pointing both fingers towards a huge tent near the middle of the camp where some other players were lingering around. It looked as if people were getting materials required for their classes. So, the materials were provided; that was a nice bonus.

Patiently and carefully, Saber walked over towards the large tent, avoiding collisions with other players as they walked away. It seemed like a bit of a hostile environment, the line to get materials, but It was mainly because of the lack of dwarves handing things out. After finding where he needed to be though, it didn’t take Saber long before he was looking at a short man with his hands on his hips. The dwarf cocked his eyebrows in concern as he looked Saber up and down. Was he being questioned again? Maybe the effect of homeless-looking-ness was too much.

“What do you want?” The dwarf asked. Saber raised an eyebrow and raised the flyer he had been given.

“I want your most difficult equipment. All of it. Everything that could be the equivalent of Expert and above.” His request made a few players behind him ask questions or mumble uncertainties. The Dwarf on the other hand looked at Saber as if he was mad.

“Oh-ho… Do you really think you could handle such things, Adventuer?” The question was unnecessary, but Saber had his own answer. He pulled the Blade of the North out of its sheath, causing several people to move clear, and lay it down on the table before the dwarf. The stout creature eyed the weapon for a moment, staring at it quietly before looking back up towards Saber.

“Titus. Bring me the black chest and some better quality tools for this man.” The Dwarf had his answer, his verification, and Saber had his job. Sheathing his sword, the player stared at the Dwarf as another brought a decent-sized black chest over. It looked fairly heavy, so heavy that the man couldn’t exactly put it on the table.

“These are some of the better armors; those from nobles. I was going to wait for one of my fellows to handle it, but you seem competent. They need repairs to be done to them. Don’t mess them up, Adventurer. Bring them back when you are finished.” With that, Saber lifted the heavy chest and hefted it onto his shoulder so he could carry it more easily. Now, he just needed a spot… There...

Saber moved away from the line and headed off to the side of the camp. It was away from much of the commotion of the other players but it was still fairly close to where a community pile of materials was being gathered. The spot was secluded enough so that he wouldn’t be bothered by people passing by and it was also a little quieter. He liked quiet.

: Post Title :
-The Black Chest-

: Word Count :
1,635

: Skills Used :
N/A

: Tagged :
Saber, Elkeid

: Notes :
Freakin' Dwarf.

Coded By Saber of L33T T3@M

[Elkeid]

Still cradling her box of bottles and tools, Elkeid continued to edge away from the tent, now seeking a decent place to set up shop. She did not mind the chatter and movement of bodies too much, and would not be opposed to taking requests. If left on her own accord, she would most likely craft a bunch of fruity and or sour cocktails. "Hmm…" She the tip of her tongue against her lips, now wanting to swirl the contents of an appletini around in a cocktail glass. There was something soothing about the action, and made drinking it all that much satisfying. “There is no fulfillment that is not made sweeter for the prolonging of desire.” She had a drink like that in her inventory right now, but she refused to drink it right now, to satisfy a thirst that could be satiated with a gulp of water. Her drinks were normally taken when work was done, so that outer influences did not cloud her better judgment. Perhaps she could reward herself later, like after a warm bath or when she had time to herself.

Another question sprang to mind as she wandered about: What about players who did not like "girly" drinks or alcohol? 'They can all go to hell.' Well, not really; she would have to take them into consideration, too. She could mix drinks that were essentially "virgin" in nature, such as hot chocolate, coffee, that nasty powdered shit some people liked to mix into their water bottles, lemonade, apple juice, etc. She could even make chocolate milk for the little kiddos that were running about. If she could be bothered to drink the stuff, she would almost consider it a shame that there was a lack of soda. The kids drank that stuff up like it was the elixir of the gods.

Elkeid spotted a man who had made himself comfortable in a secluded spot, though he was still in good reach of the extra materials that were being arranged for easier access. That was a smart move, and had he not found it first, she surely would have taken his spot. Elk decided to choose a spot that was a bit more in the way of traffic, so that she could lure tired and thirsty players in with the promise of a cool, refreshing drink. There did not appear to be any other brewers available at the moment, either, which meant that she might also be overworked. Elk rolled her shoulders and silently scoffed as she set her box down on a table, and then placed her firm rump onto the edge. The table was surprisingly taller than she had expected; she had to scoot forward a bit to set both feet firmly onto the ground, which of course just meant she was leaning against the table and not sitting on it. This was clearly not a table for dwarfs.

She scooted back onto the table until the backs of her knees were snugly fitted against wood, leaving her long legs to dangle above the ground. Elk twisted her body to the side, towards the yet to be unpacked box. Unpacking it would probably be a lot easier to do standing up, but she figured she had plenty of time to spare. Flocks of thirsty Adventurers were not likely to show up until nightfall or a bit earlier, so she should have more than a few drinks crafted by then. If not, she did not know what the hell was wrong with her. It wasn't like she was going to be making wine or anything. Now, what did she have here?

The first bottle she pulled out was a simple bottle of stale liquor. Elkeid set it aside and reached back into the box, expecting to find a similar beverage. A chill shot through her fingers as she instead pulled out a container of British Snow. The woman scowled as she threw open all flaps of the box's top, and saw how unorganized its interior was. While she was not OCD, such chaos irritated her organizational side. She was further annoyed when she saw that there were no other ingredients - beyond the standard ones - provided to her. Where were the fruit extracts, the lemon wedges, the sour salt…? It looked like she was going to have to visit the spare materials very early today. 'Inconceivable!' Were they just expecting straight alcohol?

Before visiting the stash of supplies, Elk first organized her base ingredients in three neat rows, near one side of the table. The other side would be reserved for the mix-ins, and the center of the table would be deemed her workspace. The completed drinks would be placed near the front end of the table for easy access by the thirsty. She would be sure to separate the non-alcoholic from the alcoholic, as well.

Feeling confident that no one would dare to filch anything from her table or commandeer it, Elk pushed herself off of the table and landed onto the ground with a soft thump. She picked up her now barren box, and walked over to the pile of supplies. This was what she needed, and she was going to cart away as much as she could shove into this box.

Some kind soul had saved her the trouble of juicing some fruit. The selection was limited and rather vanilla (orange, lemon, grape juices and milk), but she could make do. It would have been nice to have some melon, cranberries and maybe some strawberries. Elk helped herself to some of the bottled juices, as well as whole fruit she could cut up for garnish.

A young boy carrying several packages stopped by beside her and stooped down to place them with the other ingredients. Elk called out to him before he could run off again. She had spied a few apples through the slit of one of his crates. "Oi, boy. Were you the one to collect this fruit, or are you simply the delivery boy?"

"Delivery boy, but I mostly work for a farmer."

Perfect. "Would you mind requesting a bigger…" She paused to glance at the collection of fruit. "Variety of fruit? Like kiwis, grapefruit...melons?"

The boy placed his hands on his hips and turned his head to the side, as if he was considering her offer and not simply pretending. "Well, what's in it for me?"

'You get to keep the use of your limbs.' She smirked and fished out a few gold coins from her purse. "A few free drinks of your choice, on the house, and a nice little tip - more if you can bring back what I ask for before the end of the day."

The boy took a moment or two to ponder over her offer, and then swiped the coins from her palm. "You've got a deal, lady!" The boy, who was one of those fox people, darted off, his tails and ears bending back with the breeze he generated.

Elkeid returned to her table, but this time she did not sit on it. She neatly arranged her new gained materials around her workspace, and placed the box under the table before dropping into the tall chair behind it. "Showtime," she said, with a crack of her knuckles.

coded by benetnasch of ET

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[attr="class","alkaid"]

[newclass=.alkaid]background-color:#050505; border: 2px solid #050505; border-radius: 5px; overflow: hidden; width: 100px; height:6px;[/newclass]

[attr="class","alkaid"]

Words:
1218

Muse:
Relax, Take It Easy

Notes:
Nup.

Tags:
Saber