Fantasy Saga von Gaia: Dungeon Quest

[Sen Pai]

Chapter I: The Caravan of Destiny

It’s been days since they last saw any sign of civilization in this godforsaken desert. Their water supply had run out this morning, if they didn’t get to some sort of rest stop soon, they would be die from heat exhaustion. Then again, death and returning to the Hal was starting to sound tempting since it was so treacherous to suffer through such an unbearable heat. Four people did not check the weather forecast before they left for weeks on end in the infamous Goddess Desert. Even the magicians who studied the weather patterns and the flow of the Hal in nature warned that the Goddess Desert was incredibly hot this summer. But, these four people completely ignored that warning or did not hear of it since there they were, trudging pitifully through the sand.


A man wearing a cloak of hyena fur walked through the Goddess Desert, taking the blazing rays of the sun as if each of them were daggers falling from the sky. He then reached behind his back and into the pocket of the knapsack whose right strap was falling off his shoulder. Even if he didn’t have any water left, not even a drop, inside his flask, Roland still hoped that somehow, even if it was by magic, there would be at least a little bit of water left. But, alas, there wasn’t. Even as the young man stumbled to the side and then fell on his knees, he still held the empty flask in his shaky hands, staring at it like it was some sort of lost hope.


“We’re...we’re all going to die.” Roland’s voice was raspy, his throat dry and sore. His lips were chapped from the lack of moisture and he looked like some sort of skeleton with skin. It was obvious that he had quite severe – well, severe in his opinion - sunburns on mainly his face and a little bit on his arms since he had foolishly ventured into the Goddess Desert wearing what he usually wore; a sleeveless shirt. Luckily, he had gone insane enough to kill and skin a hyena, devour its meat to the bare bone, and wear its skin as a very fashionable coat. Roland didn’t know whether that was a good thing or an absolutely horrible thing.


“Don’t say that!” Cresselia spluttered out, her once youthful appearance hollowed out by the harsh journey through the desert. Although she was a magic user, with a specialty in healing, Cresselia’s magic wasn’t able to sustain everyone all the time. She couldn’t make water appear out of nowhere after all, that simply went against all of the laws of this world and the Hal. The stress had gotten to her magi storage and worn her out. Now she was just a walking and talking skeleton with skin and hair like everyone else. “I’m too young to die!” Might I add that Cresselia is two hundred and nineteen years old?


The other woman, her hair the same crimson shade as a burning flame, suddenly punched the sand underneath her. The sudden pressure made the sand hard to touch, sending the impact back at her. But, due to the overall emotion in the half-elf, she didn’t react to it. “No! I cannot die here! I have a task to fulfil!” Piras shouted at the top of her lungs. She was also dehydrated and her mouth was dry, but her voice was still quite loud. Given strength by her emotions, Piras began to take powerful steps forward before stumbling over her own feet and bending over to lean on her knees. “Damn it.”


“I believe that we can make it,” Leonel rasped, his gaze unfocused and his stride like that of a drunkard. Sweat dripped down his forehead and made his blonde hair damp; even so, he didn’t make an effort to wipe it off, seeing as it would exert unnecessary energy to do so. The white bandana that he always wore around his forehead fell limp on one side and was rested on top of his right eyebrow. Like everyone else, his clothing was all a complete disaster and the bag that rested on his shoulders was placed there in a very lazy way. However, out of all of the people there, you would think Leonel was the one who still had his sanity. “We just have to sacrifice one of us to the Cactus Gods.” You were wrong.


It’s quite a story about how these four ended up in this state, one that would entertain children of all ages. However, it was questionable if any of these people would live to tell the story. Although it is an exaggeration to say that they were on the brink of death, they were definitely in need of some sort of water. They didn’t dare to trust any mysterious cactus juice. Last time they did that, they all ended up seeing funny colours and walking in circles. In the end, they were thirstier than they were before drinking the peculiar liquid. They were worn out over their miniature adventure. They encountered rogue monsters, saved damsels in distress, and started bar fights. A lot of bar fights. But that was all a part of the story that was Dungeon Quest; little did they know that the adventure was just beginning.


“Wait, is that what I think it is...?” Cresselia’s eyes widened to the size of saucers in shock at the sight, her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Her body began to shake as she slowly lifted up an equally shaky arm. The corners of Cresselia’s lips twitched up and down as if they were unsure if she should smile and beam with joy or frown and cry with despair. The others were too tired to move their gaze to where Cresselia’s arm was pointing but when she extending her pointer finger, they all laid their eyes on the glorious sight at the same time. They were all staring at the bountiful caravan kingdom of Ethym.


It was so close, yet so far away. Roland stretched out an arm towards the kingdom as if he was trying to grasp it in his hand. But, alas, it was not something you could easily hold in your hand. Seeing the destination they travelled weeks in the desert for so close almost made Roland want to drop on the sandy ground and say that he was close enough but he had to keep moving. With three other people, it wasn’t just their lives at stake, it was also his pride and integrity that was at risk here. So, step by step, Roland began to walk towards Ethym, his head held up high and gaze directed straight at the palace in the middle of the kingdom.


With each step, a memory of how he got to this milestone flashed in his mind. Memories of the unbearable heat, the painful dehydration, the numbing feeling of hunger and starvation, and the experience of getting stolen from while sleeping twice. They were all not precious at all to Roland and he wished that he could forget all of them but as he walked towards the kingdom with the three other people who agreed to come along with him, even if they didn’t believe his story, he grinned and recalled something that his father had once told him.


“Stop being such a little bitch and do it.” Such an inspiring quote. Roland’s father had told him this sentence when he was about to face a rather strong opponent in the arena, one who was notorious for killing all who challenged in a very agonizing way. In the end, Roland’s partner had to hop in and save him when he was about to fall unconscious and meet his doom. But, at least Roland did it and he learned from the experience, even if it was difficult and both mentally and physically scarring.


The kingdom of Ethym was a beautiful and lively place, its streets was almost always filled with noise and people running around, bumping into one another. Upon entrance, they were able to drink from the man-made streams that transported fresh water to almost all areas of the kingdom. However, the engineering of the streams weren’t as impressive as the Laem Empire’s but they were still very useful and Roland wasn’t picky when he was drinking out of it like a dog. Each lap was like heaven, the refreshing liquid was cooling on the lips and soothing on the throat. It was absolutely amazing and Roland was just grateful that he was even alive.


“Oh, water,” Roland whispered as he cupped some of the water in his hands and kissed it. “I’ll never take you for granted ever again.” Gulping down the rest of the water, Roland wiped his lips and took off his hood. In fact, he practically discarded the makeshift hyena skin coat completely and handed it to a lady merchant who asked how much Roland was selling it for. But he didn’t hear her over the noise of the marketplace and simply walked off with the three other members of his little adventuring team.


It was indeed very crowded; it seemed that there were many caravans in selling their products today. It was inevitable trying to avoid getting bumped or hit by one of the people, they were just rowdy and making their way through the crowd. Roland was actually slapped in the face by a young man who was waving his hand up in the air in attempt to get the attention of a merchant who was selling watermelons for a very cheap price. The young man didn’t even notice and by his dark skin tone and hair colour, Roland assumed that he was a native to the kingdom of Ethym and something like this happened every day.


The buildings were made of bricks held together by a wooden frame but you could tell that there were still hints of the old mud mouldings in some of the older buildings that hadn’t been influenced by Lawiel’s western inspired architecture. There was a very dusty and warm look to the buildings and colours of the streets but everything seemed to light up with all sorts of different colours from the rugs and different merchandises that were being sold. Even the flashy signs were just a piece of the painting. Seeing sparks from amateur magical artifacts wasn’t anything special in Ethym, nor were explosions that turned a man’s hair green. All of these things that would have normally shocked someone were day to day events in the marketplace of Ethym. But then something happened that almost disturbed the peace.


“Help! Help!” A cry of desperation reached the group members’ ears and they all turned their attention to a rather fat man whose face had turned red from anger. He was waving a wooden ladle around in the air as if it were a weapon and by the way he was using it, it could very well be. “Someone stop that thief!” The fat man whose purple turban had gone loose from all of the running and pushing through the crowd pointed his chubby finger at a small figure that zipped through the crowd, holding the merchant’s stolen goods in his or her’s left arm. The right arm was being used to move through the crowd quickly and easily.


Seeing as a crime was being committed, Roland didn’t think twice before hurrying after the thief. He had quite the hero complex after all, he wouldn’t allow the damsel to be in distress. Even if the damsel was a red faced fat man whose face seemed to resemble a squash. And so, Roland made his way through the crowd but due to his large size, was unable to zip through like the small thief was able to. So, he took an alternate route. Grabbing an enchanted carpet, which is commonly known as a “magic carpet”, Roland yelled out a few words of apology before taking off into the air with the three other people he was travelling with.


They flew through the air, the magic carpet gliding over the people of the marketplace. It was surprisingly calm at first but that’s when the busyness of Ethym got in the way of chasing down the thief. They had to duck under the signs, avoid the vases being thrown by rival neighbours, and keep an eye on the small figure making xir way through the crowd. Then the magic carpet ran out of magi. It was obvious then that this magical artifact was not of very good quality. Perhaps it was even a fraud. But, it was not the best time to think about the integrity of the product when you were about to crash into a large crowd of people.


On the count of three, all of the people on the magic carpet jumped off of it, tumbling into the crowd instead of crashing into them. Roland quickly apologized to the young lady he had landed on top of when he saw the familiar blur of the thief. Pushing through the crowd, Roland saw Piras out of the corner of his eye, sprinting madly through the crowd to get to the thief who had wrongly taken what was not xir’s. Leonel was moving towards the thief, his bandana now fixed and trailing behind him. Even Cresselia was hurrying after her three travelling companions after helping those who were injured by the magic carpet crash.


“Stop right there!” All four of them yelled as Piras, Roland, and Leonel all reached their arms out to grab the fabric of the thief’s clothing. Cresselia was actually calling out to them to slow down but it had gone unheard as she pushed and weaved her way through the crowd in the direction that the others had gone. Piras’ fingers were able to get a good grip on the thief, successfully stopping the thief. The crowd began to die down when they had seen that the thief had been caught but seeing the thief’s face only unnerved the group.


It was a child. She was a child. Small build, ragged clothing, dirt and scratches all over her tanned skin. It was clear that this child was of a poor family, even her messily chopped raven hair had tangles in them, even a few bay leaves from almost crashing into an old woman who was handing out samples of herbal remedies and the plants they were made from. Her small feet were bare and covered in the dirt of the marketplace, they had scratches and mud on them but they had toughened up over the years. Even if the child was tough, she had a scared look on her face when her head snapped in the direction of her capturers.


In her arms was a small watermelon. It wasn’t exactly the best watermelon or fruit there was but it was small enough for her to hold in one arm but big and ripe enough to be able to eat. Her fingernails were beginning to dig into the hard shell of the fruit as the merchant came into sight. He was still red faced and waving a wooden ladle in the air. The little girl tried to take a step back, but they were all surrounded by an impenetrable wall of on looking citizens. The merchant sneered at the thief and snatched the watermelon out of her hands, causing her to flinch back in fear. The fat man then turned to the group and bowed his head multiple times in a fast motion as a gesture of thanks.


“T’ank ‘ou ver’ muc’,” the merchant’s voice was sickeningly sweet that it completely contrasted with his facial expression a few seconds before. “T’is rascal tried to steal m’ watermelon!” the fat man’s face turned even redder with rage as he quickly glared at the young thief, who was staring wide eyed at the interaction between the merchant and the people who had caught her.


In her eyes were multiple feelings, they all mixed together to form something that was almost impossible to figure out. But, the main feeling in there was the feeling of fear and hatred. “I’ll make sure to punis’ it accordingly.” The merchant waved the group away, a bright smile on his face, before turning to the child and striking her across the face.


The child let out a shriek of pain that rang through the marketplace, the on lookers seemed to stare at the girl with a look of distaste. No one even took a step to help the child, even some of the older women in the group of bystanders began to turn to each other and whisper negative things about the girl who was being beaten senselessly. It was a sickening scene to watch, tears began to fall from the child’s onyx eyes as she simply laid on the dirt ground and took the beating that was punishment for getting caught. Of course they couldn’t stand there and watch it happen.


As if by instinct, Leonel pushed the merchant away from the child. The crowd’s whispers grew louder from shock, some even began shouting in the background. Holding the girl tightly in his arms, Leonel glared viciously at the merchant. Turning his attention to the girl, who seemed to be around the ages twelve to fourteen, Leonel nodded, hoping that it would comfort her in some sort of way. Although the girl was pleasantly shocked at what the blonde man had done, the merchant was absolutely furious. His face had turned the same shade of red as a cherry tomato and his cheeks were puffed out with rage.


“W’at do ‘ou t’ink ‘ou’re doing?!” The merchant shrieked as he stomped over to Leonel as the child. The curly mustache that seemed to have product on it began to fall limp as the merchant’s anger became more and more evident. It seemed that he was quite known for his temper since the crowd began to whisper something about “temperamental Warnabus”, however, they still refused to get involved too deeply in the situation. The merchant’s angry stare was directed at two young women who were gossiping with one another, most likely about him, for a moment, shutting them up immediately. The merchant Warnabus scowled and took another step forward as if to threaten Leonel.


However, Piras suddenly appeared in between them. Her feet were a little father than shoulder width apart and her arms were folded over her chest. “You know what I hate more than thieves?” Piras muttered darkly. “Child abusing, red faced, fat merchants.” With that statement, the merchant seemed to become even angrier, steam was coming out of his ears and nostrils in a comedic way. But, embarrassed by the half-elf’s words, the merchant grumbled and swore under his breath as he stomped away and into the crowd.


The crowd began to disperse, everyone leaving to go back to their daily-to-do list. It was as if the scene had never happened. All that was left were the four people and the black haired girl. There were still a few people who walked away talking about Warnabus but it seemed that this sort of thing really was a daily occurrence. Thieves stealing from the merchants, merchants chasing them down and beating them, the wall of civilians that circled the victim, it was all a part of the normal society in Ethym.


“Th-thank you.” The girl’s voice was a little shaky from what had happened but she was trying to stay strong. She wiped the tears from her eyes and got up by herself. There were a few bruises forming and cuts bleeding from the beating but when Cresselia stepped forward to heal the child, the girl put a hand up to stop her. “No, it’s alright. I have to show my family the proof that I was unable to provide dinner for them.” The girl shook her head and sighed, feeling ashamed that she was unable to get food to feed her siblings.


The group looked at the girl with concern. “I’ll buy you something.” Roland offered, having to bend down on his haunches to see face to face with the girl. It was more of a statement than an offer but Roland didn’t want this girl to starve especially since he is partly at fault. Glancing around, Roland realized that he didn’t know his way around the kingdom anymore. The last time he was here was when he was only four years old.


“How should I repay you?” The girl stared up at the other three people, her gaze slightly hesitant to meet with Leonel’s. It was clear that the girl wasn’t able to give them any material objects, she was stealing a watermelon for Priarae’s sake. But the girl was a thief, and most likely a native to the kingdom of Ethym, she must know her way around the kingdom.


“Can you lead us to the nearest tavern?” Roland asked. He could kill two birds with one stone that way; buy the girl something to eat and feed him and the group as well. Of course, Roland was making the others pay for their own meals. After being robbed during the treacherous journey through the desert, Roland was left with only a few gold coins left, and they were only found by picking up shiny items on the way to Ethym. In the end, the girl agreed to the offer and gestured for the group to follow her before quickly walking off into the crowd. During that time, they found out that the girl’s name was Minali after an old woman and a large man hurried towards her, squawking like birds about her well being.


“To be honest, that was only my second time stealing.” Minali said, her gaze focused on the street in front of her. This statement caught the group’s attention and Minali was happy to share her story when asked. Perhaps she was hopeful that if she told a group of strong looking strangers, they could get rid of the problem. “You haven’t heard? Of the bandits?” Minali glanced back at the group, her eyebrows raised in surprise when the four people she was leading were all quiet. Minali sighed and rubbed her nose before speaking again. “The bandits and slave traders...they attack caravans and make it difficult to trade.”


The tavern began to come into view. It was a rather old building, made out of dried mud to withstand the intense heat of the sun. “The usual caravans aren’t coming so there isn’t enough food for everyone.” Minali stretched out her fingers and turned around to face the group. They arrived at their destination, the “Chant and Wand”, but Minali still had their attention. “Because of this, the merchants that are able to come here have raised their prices, making it difficult for average people like me to get food.”


Glancing back at the tavern, Minali stared at the group before her and then smiled. “Thanks for helping me back there, you don’t have to buy me food, you’ve given me enough.” Ignoring any of the protests that the group made, Minali began to nonchalantly walk and disappear into the crowd of people, leaving the group at the entrance of the Chant and Wand, the nearest tavern in the area. The group looked at one another before entering the tavern.


It was musky inside the Chant and Wand but there was a very calming effect in there, even if there were a few men off to the side trying to prove who the better alpha male in the tavern was. The floor was polished wood, as well as the tables the chairs. The bar stools were also made of wood but then had light cushioning for you to sit on. Overall, it was quite a good tavern despite the fact that that exterior looked somewhat beaten down. The group was exhausted from their journey and little adventure upon arrival so they were glad to finally have a seat and order some food for themselves.


Little did they know that Minali wasn’t just walking away with their good will in mind, but their money in her hand. Never trust a thief, even if the thief is an innocent looking child.

 

[Sir Raime]

In a small alleyway filled with beggars and littered with filth, a lone figure sat, leaning against a wall as he fried a few slices of sandworm meat using an improvised iron disc and some oils he kept with himself on his journeys. The smell of the worm flesh cooking in the sun's intense heat was absolutely horrid, but that didn't stop a lone vagrant from reaching out and snatching a slice of the sizzling flesh from the makeshift pan. The few other beggars and wastrels in the alley saw the tramp's action and immediately began scuttling as far away from him as possible.


After all, even pilot fish knew to wait until the shark was done feeding before picking up the scraps.


Without a single word spoken, the figure that had been frying his worm stood up, the entirety of his attention now directed at the vagabond who had stolen from him. The vagrant and the lone stranger looked at each other, their eyes meeting, and when those eyes met, the two came to an unspoken understanding, as if their very souls had communicated with one another.


The vagrant would not be leaving that alley alive. The phantom that walked among men would make sure of that.


The tramp immediately shot off toward the other end of the alleyway, hoping to escape with the stolen food, or at least his life. In a single smooth stroke, the stranger pulled a dull knife from his pocket and threw it at the grimy man, landing dead center at the base of the back of his skull. The thief hit the ground like a sack of bricks. The figure glided across the alleyway like a looming spectre, a vision of death clad in black, until he reached the downed man's corpse and ripped the knife back out of his head with a quiet grunt. He pried the slice of stolen sandworm meat from the offender and examined it closely. The thing had been soaked in the man's sweat, and now stank of feces and blood. It was no longer edible by the phantom's standards, likely infested with some disease, so he tossed the foul piece of flesh to the other tramps of the alleyway, motivating the lot of them to descend upon it like a pack of vultures. The man returned to his iron pan and plucked the two remaining pieces of fried sandworm from it, only to have some child run by and try to snatch his food from his hand.


One would think that people would be wise enough to stop trying this after so many times, but it seemed that this kingdom was filled with all kinds of idiots. Before the young boy could even make contact with his target, the phantom seized the boy by his arm, pressing him against the wall while forcing the sizzling iron disc against his face. The piece of metal was pushed against the boy's dirtied face with enough force to crush the child's head before he even knew the pain of the sizzling hot oil. A grisly fate indeed.


The phantom reached up for his own face and gently pulled down at the cloth bandages covering his mouth, revealing a mess of grotesque skin as he rapidly wolfed down his meal in a mocking funeral to the dead child. As he pulled his bandages back up, he strolled out of the alleyway and into some bar, the Chant and something or other. Once he entered, many of the customers who frequented the bar grew a bit more quiet. The phantom walked over to a table in a secluded corner and seated himself, eyeing each and every one of the customers as a hawk would its prey. He decided to keep his focus on a group of newcomers that were garbed in clothes obviously not designed for those familiar with the desert's cruelty.

 

[kitsunemage]

She really wasn't used to so much noise. That's not to say that her village had never been noisy- but back home... before all this started... There was a muted calm to everything. From the way the insects merely hovered in the air, floating on warm currents and taking in the heady scent of heat warmed petals. To the way the clouds scuttled across the blue expanse of the sky, reflecting in still pools of water with mirror-like quality.


In all of her travels so far, she had never come across such a graceful image. Not that she was incredibly well travelled, but it was hard to believe a sight existed that could hold more meaning then, or bespoke more about a peaceful lifestyle. Every person working together harmoniously. In perfect tandem.


Shaking herself from her reverie (remembering only ever served to lower her spirits) Cresselia turned her amber eyes back to the cacophony around her. The noise was outstanding, from merchants hawking their wares- cries of "Watermelon, Three xxx" or "A bobble for the Lady!" rising above the gurgle of voices so consistent it might have just been a buzz of lightning running through her veins, and not a sound at all.


And the animals! Camels were something she'd never seen in her home kingdom of Pandemonium. They weren't needed in her sleepy town- though they'd had horses by the cart full. Even here the streets were much the same, the ground packed with tried dung, dirt, and cobble beneath that filmy brown covering. Dogs argued with cats in the quieter corners and the mouths of alleys where grim faced men (and the occasional woman) waited with sharp eyes on the crowd. Cresselia considered men like that to be animals as well.


In comparison, the cool shade and muffled atmosphere of the tavern was welcome to Cresselia. Giving her a chance to finally draw back the loose white hood that had covered her head (compliments of her somewhat preparing for a normal desert crossing. How on Gaia she was supposed to know that the goddess desert was that treacherous this year was beyond her) and reveal the sun-burned cheeks of her normally pale face, it's colour paling in comparison to her vibrant scarlet, and long pointed ears that easily picked her out as an elf.


"If I weren't just as inclined to make your skin turn blue, I would kiss you right now for getting us here alive." Cresselia pressed one small chapped hand to her forehead, mentally bemoaning the moisturising creams she'd quickly run out of during the extensive crossing. Her skin would never be the same- she would go back home when everything was done and she would be tanned. A shudder ran down her spine. She'd tried tanning before, but it just looked...wrong with her vibrant hair.


Of course first she would have to get rid of the sun-burn that probably enveloped her entire body. It certainly hadn't felt like her normal loose white clothing- surprisingly good for the desert, but much too heavy- had protected her from the heat all too much. She couldn't wait to hire a room, and take a bath. Ah, the words were like sweet heaven in her mind.


Not wasting any more time in her reverie, Cresselia hailed down the bartender, one hand unconsciously falling to her side where her coin pouch normally hung. Normally being the key word there. In her sun fried mind, it took a few moments of scowling bar tender for the fact that it wasn't there to register.


She promptly folded forwards, resting her head against the cool- if a little bit sticky- surface of the smooth wood bar top, and buried her hands in her hair.


She couldn't take much more of this.

 

[Goddess]

With her fellow companions Piras firmly seated herself within a polished wooden chair. The moment she had sat down she nearly wanted to break out into passionate tears. The tavern was cool , a mixture of warmth and cold air. The room smelled of wood polish as if it was cleaned just a few minutes before they had arrived. Piras had to take a few minutes to clap her hands together in prayer and think her beloved creators for granting her with water, companions and a place to rest. The prayer she mumbled was nothing but a few lines and a thank you with three claps and a twitch of her medium elfen ears.


Once she was done a wide smiled would take place across her visage as she would look around the tavern. Of course Piras had been to many, more than she could ever possibly count, but it was the new destination that always made her restless and eager to explore. There were many things she had never seen before and some were to similar. The incident with the young girl was bothersome for Piras, the fact that she stole had already put the girl on her bad side but the fact that she was publicly beaten was more upsetting then her stealing.


As Piras looked around she had almost forgot something important. Before she had met her new companions she was already venturing with another. She quickly shoved her hand in the small pocket on her right upper thigh. Fiddling around inside she had pulled out a small compass with a small orange, green scale inside. Smiling she brushed its top side with the tip of her thumb.


Piras remembered before they had to depart, Piro stated that if he were to ever fall from his mighty throne within the sky that the scale will become faded and loose its color. The scale would loose its heat and become cold as ice. Piras was happy to feel the burning sensation from the scale along with its brimming colors of orange and green. Closing up the compass she had slipped it back into her pocket and gazed at the other members withing their small little group.


"Bless it be the great creators. Finally we have a resting place to relax."


Without wasting any time she balled up her fist and slammed it down on the table, rocking it as if it were a boat. One of the bartenders had looked up toward the female with eyes of wonder , his gaze looking over the group. The bartender had looked back over toward the one who slammed her fist down. Clearing his throat he asked her what she had wanted. With fire in her eyes she began to make a list of foods that most would think a girl her size would never be able to finish.


"I would like Ale, more Ale ...in a big Jug thing yes a Jug. I would like turkey legs...four FOUR. I would also like to order some duck, full ducks , LOTS OF DUCKS. I would also like to all the sweets you can muster. RIBS , RIBS MUST HAVE RIBS AS WELL. What else can there be...ah yes WATER , potatoes , BREAD and MUSIC. You can not eat without music."


The man was shocked, nearly flinching every time she had rose her voice. The few wenches who had stood around the bar would give her glares of detest, some uncertain if she was a female at all. The bartender gave her nothing but silence but soon gave the half elf a wide smile, clapping his hands to the slacking wenches who bickered and complained about the burning sun, and how men would not give them any second glance.

 

[I'm A Grill]

In the corner of the tavern sat a woman. It was an odd sight, for sure, to see a woman, well-dressed at that, sitting alone in such an arguably rowdy place. Even stranger was that to the casual observer she appeared lost in her thoughts, starring with a furrowed brow at the book before her. Many would ask themselves how such a woman could concentrate amid all the noise.


Few ever noticed her. It was hard to make her out, a woman wearing black covered by the shadows that crept in the corners. The only source of light in the area a small flame hidden behind the bound book. She preferred it that way. Left alone to herself in her thoughts. She dealt with the noise easily. If she was feeling very magically inclined she would simply solidify the dust in her ears into wax, creating noise cancellation all on her own. However, she would normally take ear plugs created from the wax of a candle and place them in her ears as she had done today. It didn't cancel out the loudest of noises, mind you, but it did serve to cancel out the general conversation noises.


She did not so much as tilt her head up when the tavern door opened, illuminating the entrance of the tavern with the light from outside. At the time, she was particularly engrossed in the works of Baron Alvin, the first dungeon diver. It was his memoir of dungeon diving. Now, she had no doubt that some of the content within the pages was exaggerated. In one section, for example, he gives reference to single-handily defeating an entire evil horde by himself. Serena was more interested in the descriptions of the dungeons he visited. How the dungeon seals worked, what lay beneath each dungeon, what the layout was like, the Alphas, and so forth. There was such as lack of information regarding dungeons. It seemed that much of the knowledge had been lost to the ebbs of history. Which is why she cherished, despite its flaws, the memoirs of Baron Alvin.


Her thoughts were interrupted shortly there after by a woman, she assumed for the voice, yelling very loudly about food. Annoyed, she decided to look up from her reading to see what the fuss was about. She removed the wax from her ears and placed it down on the table to better hear the commotion. She immediately noticed that these people were clearly strangers to the town. They looked rugged, dehydrated, and in some cases malnourished. Such people were not uncommon to the town, many merchants get lost in the desert for days at a time. Some never come back at all, consumed by the heat of the desert.


Serena hated the desert. There was nothing about it she liked. Consequently, she hated this town's location, too. It was so far from water. How could water be such a scare commodity? She had never known in all her life that there was places devoid of water. She felt so far from home, trapped in an endless sea of sand. What she wouldn't give to quit now on her journey and return home. If only things were so simple, she thought.


She began to pick up her ear plugs again and settle back down into her thoughts when she stopped for a moment. There was something about this group of strangers that had entered into the tavern. It wasn't anything logical. Nothing that she could point to for why she put the ear plugs back down and began to focus on the strangers. It was a gut feeling from her stomach. This group, she subconsciously realized, was different. And so she leaned back in her chair against the tavern wall, content for the moment to listen and observe them.


Of course, being the klutz that she was, the chair was farther from the wall than she first thought. Thus, when she leaned back, expecting the wall to stop the chair from fully falling, both she and the chair fell. A large "WHAP!" echoed through out the room as she fell, the chair slamming into the wood with her head slamming into it shortly there after. Her head was ringing. Pain shooting through her body. She hazily sat up on the floor, rubbing the back of her head where it had hit the floor. There wasn't any blood, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. She was well aware that for the moment, every eye in the room was looking towards her corner of the tavern.

 

[Sen Pai]

Weeks on end with such a low food supply sure does cause your stomach to shrink. It’s never a good idea to suddenly consume a large meal after being so close to starvation. But, Roland didn’t care about that, all he wanted was food and food is what he got. Practically drooling over the delicious plate of food that a young waiter served him, Roland barely even knew that his money had been stolen from him and dug into the meat right away. As if he was a wild animal, Roland wasn’t even chewing as he seemed to inhale the food on the plate. Not even a grain of rice that was imported from the grasslands was left on the plate.


Ignoring the fact that he was already full, Roland held the plate up in his hands and cheerfully demanded, “Bring me more!” Laughing rather loudly, Roland grinned and leaned back in the chair, draping his cursed arm back and began flirting with one of the cute waitresses. His arm sure did catch a lot of attention, it was obvious that a few people in the tavern had recognized him but they hadn’t spoken up just yet. But, even with a quick glance around the tavern, it was obvious that everyone seemed to have something weird about them that it was difficult to decide who to look at. Then, a loud noise from behind Roland caught his attention.


Turning his head to stare straight at a young woman with long dark hair, Roland’s eyes widened when he saw her fall to the ground and land on her butt. The tavern was quiet for a few moments, that is, until everyone burst out into uncontrollable laughter. Even the calm and collected women in the corner were smirking with both amusement and pity. Getting up and moving away from the bar, Roland approached the young woman and knelt down beside her. Still laughing, Roland grinned at her and grabbed a plate of food off of one of the server’s trays. “Hey, not to worry! Why don’t you have a plate of this to feel better?” Offering the plate of food to the woman, Roland beamed.


A large, tanned man approached Roland from behind, a serious expression on his slightly drunk face. “Boy, do you have the money to pay for this meal?” Furrowing his large caterpillar-like eyebrows together, the man was very intimidating. He was dressed in the proper clothing you would wear in Ethym and his head was shaved bald. There was a rather nasty looking scar going vertically down his right brown eye, causing blindness in that eye. The tavern seemed to go silent when the man spoke, his voice commanding attention, but Roland didn’t seem to sense the dangerous mood in the air.


Looking up at the very big man, Roland grinned and nodded. “Haha! Of course I do!” Reaching down to where his bag of gold usually was, Roland grabbed it like it was there and held it out. “It’s right here!” Of course, to the spectators and the large man, Roland looked as if he was insane. In his hand was absolutely nothing, just plain air, but Roland made it seem like there really was something there. Opening his eyes when he realized his money was gone, Roland let out a yell of disbelief. “Whaaaat?!” Jumping up to his feet, Roland turned to the large man and frowned. “I swear I have money somewhere.” Roland searched his whole body and the knapsack. He found absolutely nothing. Roland looked up at the large man to announce his discovery only to get a fist to the face.


The large man growled deeply and towered above Roland. He was a giant! Literally. The man stood several feet taller than Roland and looked down at him like he was some bug that could easily be squished. “You ate here...without any money?” The man pulled his arm back like he was reeling a fishing line, the intensity of the giant was so great that a normal man would have frozen in fear and wait to be hit by such a punch from a giant. That could easily cause a concussion. A giant’s strength is nothing to joke around with. But, then again, Roland Adair was not a normal man. He went face to face with one of the Twelve Beasts of Jezebel. Or so he says.


Moving out of the way at the last minute, Roland knew where this was going. In fact, everyone knew where this was going when the large man missed his target and punched a drunken bystander right in the face. The bystander flew back a couple of feet and hit the wall with a loud crack that was most likely a rib. The bystander’s friends immediately got up and approached the giant. That, my good friend, is how the bar fight in the Chant and Wand started. Those who knew the giant and were acquainted with him stood up and it turned into a full out brawl.


@AmericanEagle

 

[Goddess]

Piras watched Roland assist the female who had landed on her rear end. With nothing but a passionate nod she resumed her feast as she gobbled down the food she had ordered, nearly mixing everything together as if it was soup or some type of broth. It was only till she had taken a slight pause when she heard Roland yelp as he told the man that he swore he had money. Piras moved her eyes over toward the window as she thought to herself. Despite Piras looks she was very intelligent and was not that oblivious to many situations. Her first thought was while they were helping the young thief that she had stolen the money, I mean once a thief always a thief. Of course there was the second thought to where when they were running through town , some of the money could have spilled out. Piras narrowed her eyes as the second thought seemed to careless , so she ruled that one out. As she was about to finish the last portion of her meal one of the men who sided with the tall bald guy had come over and asked if she was part of his party. Giving the man silence she shoved the portion down, right before he had smacked the bowl away from her hands.


With nothing but a flinch her ears twitched when she heard the bowl fall and crash to the floor. The man had motioned for her to stand , throw up arms and beg to him. Some who weren't paying attention to Roland, and the brawl that had commence had stared at Piras. Everyone in the Tavern had something odd, off about them. Roland had his arm and the men in the corner all seemed to have auras that was drenched with murder and blood lust. Though no one could quite read Piras except that she was filled with a burning passion for all things justice, you could see that clearly when peering into her red. orange like hues. With a swift motion you could see the man's head fall to the floor with a loud thunk, with the lower half of his body finally catching up to him as it too hit the ground. Their eyes quickly looked back up to Piras who was no longer in her chair but instead standing with her right leg high in the air and her fist balled up tighter than a rope holding a ship to the docks. Piras smirked as she lowered her leg back to the floor, her ears twitching frantically as she heard several footsteps approach her from behind.


At first Piras seemed afraid but that went away all to quick as she turned around and inhaled a big gust of air. With one quick exhale she roared out as loud as she could, making the men cover their ears and fall back. At times like these, she had enjoyed living with a dragon, being taught and loved by one. "Look here you scoundrels. Allow me to explain why we have no money. I swear to you on the great creators that we had the money to pay for a splurge here it is in fact and truth that a young fleshling had taken it from us. Allow me to elaborate in further detail." As she attempted to continue the man threw a fist forward right for her mouth. Piras with great anger hated being interrupted and found that the mans lack of patience was the fall of him. As he threw his punch forward she had used her right hand to grab hold of his wrist, pulling it over and toward her left. As the man began to fall forward she used her left knee to assist him in standing back up. "Sir if you just give me a second I would be happy to give you an answer as to why we lack the necessary amount of money to pay for this meal." The man hated the way she had talked to him, as if she had any right. He attempted to throw another punch using his other arm. Piras blocked it with the mans arm that she held and quickly tossed him back on his rear.


"I am sensing anger coming from you. There is no reason to be mad, yes your form is sloppy but that is not the point here. If you could relax I can tell you exactly what happened , how it happened, the day , the time, the hour, who took the first step and who did most of the talking."

 

[Lucem]

Ever since leaving the village, Levarnius had seen and experienced many things that he would have never been able to if he had spent the remainder of his days within the forest that he had onced called home. Not that he didn't love his home, the village and the people that resided there were the most precious thing in his life and he would always keep them close to his heart. However, the outside world had so much beauty and had so much to offer him. Just thinking about his travels made his lips stretch into a smile and his eyes gleam with joy. Every moment out here was truly a blessing.


"Hey, kid! If you don't stop standing there with that stupid look on your face and get back to work, you're never leaving this place!" Well, maybe not every moment...


"Y-Yes, sir!" Fumbling with his words, as well as the old broom in his hands that threatened to fall, Levarnius was brought back to his current setting when the large, bald man raised his voice. Face showing signs of displeasure and annoyance, the man returned from whence he came.


Once he had left, Levarnius released a light laugh as he began to sweep the accumulating dirt from the wood floors. He was constantly being yelled at for his actions and tendency to lose concentration. Not just his employers, but the customers as well. Levarnius' permanent bright and cheery behavior contrasted greatly from that of the usual clientele found here at the Chant and Want. The young man simply didn't belong here and anyone could see that. Nobody in their right mind would hire such a person to work here. However, there were certain...circumstances that led to Levarnius' current position here at the tavern.


Just starting out in his journey to gather his army, Levarnius enjoyed the adventure that came along with exploring new places. There was always a sense of wonder that came along with entering a new city and being thrown into the unknown. Unfortunately, in his case, there was much that was unknown.


Given his background, Levarnius was equivalent to a country bumpkin at best when it came to normal society. He didn't understand certain norms that even a child would have no problems with comprehending. So, this would frequently lead to trouble when he found himself in towns. The most recent example would be when he found himself in the kingdom known as Ethym.


Upon arriving in the caravan kingdom, Levarnius immediately began to make it known that he was available for hire as a mercenary. If he was to acquire troops, he would first need money. One of the best and most popular ways of earning a hefty sum of coin was offering your skills to protect others and assist them in their tasks. Unfortunately, business was bad. To be more specific, it was none existent.


Since he had began his journey, nobody had even considered hiring the young Half-Elf. His appearance didn't exactly say "exceptional fighter", which hurt his chances of finding someone willing to give him a chance. Even if someone was able to get past his childish appearance, all business would stop upon discovering his personality.


Levarnius was foolish, dense, clumsy, and overly excited at all times. These qualities weren't exactly that of a top class warrior, so nobody was willing to give him a chance. To be fair, they couldn't really be blamed, especially when he would claim to be a strong and powerful combatant in a grand speech, but trip on a pebble right in the middle.


So, with a lack of funds, Levarnius found himself low on food and exhausted. He hardly had the energy to advertise his services and would grow weaker with each passing day. Not even the emergency rations he had taken with him lasted as long as he thought they would. All hoped seemed lost, until he was captivated by the alluring smell of various meats being cooked. His legs developing a mind of their own, he soon found himself at a tavern known as the Chant and Wand.


Upon walking in, Levarnius failed to notice the surrounding environment and all those that filled the wooden seats. The only thing on his mind was finding the source of that enticing arouma. His eyes soon lit up once he saw the display of food before him, calling out his name and begging to be eaten.


He would've given anything for just one plate, but he lacked any money to pay for even a crumb. Dejected, he began to leave with an crushed soul and empty stomach. However, with his slightly pointed ears, he managed to catch the words that would lead to an unfortunate confrontation. "Put it on my tab."


Never hearing about something called a "tab", Levarnius' curiosity was peaked and followed the call. To his surprise, a full place of food was placed in front of the man, money never changing hands. He was stunned. You could eat here without paying!? It was as if he had made a greate discovery.


So, in his infinite wisdom, Levarnius made his way over to the counter to test his new knowledge. Requesting a single plate, Levarnius did as the other man had done and requested that the meal be placed on his tab. When the food came and he took the first bite, all bets were off. One plate soon turned to four and four plates soon turned to twenty. Levarnius had eaten practically everything available and felt better than ever. Little did he know, that feeling would soon be replaced by something much worse.


When the management had finally had enough of the blond eating all of their stock, they decided to call in his tab and demanded that he pay. Confused, Levarnius questioned him on this and was forced to explain that he had no money. What soon followed was the most violent fit of rage he had ever seen someone display, the bald man's face becoming an amusing mix of purple and red. It wasn't so amusing when his meaty hands wrapped themselves around Levarnius' shoulders and created a tight grip.


In order to pay of his massive debt, Levarnius was forced into unpaid labor until the tab was cleared. It seemed impossible to pay such a massive amount by simply working in a tavern, so Levarnius would most likely never be able to leave unless he found himself with a large rise in his nonexistent pay. The young man had unknowingly been, in a way, become a slave.


So, unable to leave until he was able to earn a job that paid well, Levarnius began to put himself on the market again and soon earned a reputation as the "loud one" or the "annoying brat". He didn't see anything strange with his extravagant displays, since everyone else was just as loud as any other vendor. Thinking about it now, he could probably run a moderately successful stall.


While struggling to get the last line of dust that prevented the floor from becoming free of filth, Levarnius' ears perked at the sound of new customers. He always loved seeing new people. It was a good way to pass the time and provided more potential customers that could have use for him.


Turning to face the entering group, Levarnius found himself smiling a bit wider than usual when he spotted a familiar pair of long ears. It had been a while since he had seen an Elf and the appearance reminded him of home. He found himself wondering what forest they lived in and thought maybe he could gain some advice on facing those monsters. Of course, this was assuming they lived an a forest and had suffered attacks as well. However, he hadn't considered any of this and was merely focused on the mental picture of learning valuable information that most likely did not exist.


Taking a look at the others that came in, he was impressed with how strong they looked, especially one of the men that looked older than him. He was captivated by his arm and how spectacular it looked to him. At that moment, he wished he his arm had a similar look. Maybe that would've helped with business and made him look stronger.


This had to be a traveling group and Levarnius was growing more excited by the second, smile stretching from one ear to the other. If they were traveling, they had to be in need of another pair of hands. But then again, they did look pretty strong already, so it might be hard for them to consider his skills. He knew that he was quite strong, but it would probably be hard for them to notice. Thinking of a way to solve this dilemma, Levarnius put a hand to his chin in thought, arms folded over the top of the long forgotten broom.


His planning was quickly put on hold when Levarnius began hearning a commotion near the wooden seats. Turning his attention in the direction of the sound, he soon took note of the behemoth of a man standing in front of the person with the amazingly cool arm. Judging by the former's expression and the lack of presented money, Levarnius found himself chuckle a bit, the situation reminding him of his own. 'I know where this is going.'


When a fist was suddenly thrown in the direction of the shorter man, Levarnius began to reflect on his own incident. 'Okay, maybe this isn't exactly where I thought it was...' Looking at the ensuing brawl, it didn't seem likely that he would be getting a new coworker.


Watching as more disgruntled customers began to join the fray, a not so brilliant idea popped into Levarnius' mind. Maybe if he helped them out, they would see how useful he could be. Not once did he consider how this plan could backfire.


Quickly charging in, goofy smile still on his face and determined to get hired, Levarnius struck the nearest assailant in the head with the end of the broom in his hand. He celebrated both on the inside and out when aggressor landed on the floor with a thud. This celebration was short lived when he found himself being surrounded by a few of the others that were closing. Maybe he should have thought this through more.


This idea was foolish, but even more so when considering his current equipment. All weapons and clothing had been confiscated upon being forced into service, so Levarnius was left with could be described as little more than a potato sack with holes. He had only realized when he tried to reach for the bow that hadn't been there for days.


Rubbing the back of his head with a nervous laugh, Levarnius hoped that maybe they would consider holding off on beating him into a bloody pulp. This didn't seem likely, as fist was soon sent in his general direction. Stepping to the side, he allowed the man to simply fall to the floor when the expected contact had not been made. When the other positioned himself for a tackle, Levarnius waited until his back was hunched in the right position, allowing him to firmly place his hands for a frontwards flip.


Sticking the landing by connecting both feet with another man's face, Levarnius looked around and began to feel the same joy he hadn't felt since he trained with his grandfather. If he didn't have weapons or armor, he would always have his agility and speed.


"I'm guessing I'm fired at this point..." A layoff was the least of the smiling man's worries.

 

[Sir Raime]

Aspero saw the halfling child's display of agility when he entered the fray. The kid was nimble and quick, which automatically made him an ideal recruit for dungeon delving. He didn't seem terribly sturdy, so he might not withstand too many blows from a particularly powerful beast or well-hidden trap.


He stood up from his table and casually walked over to the ensuing bar fight. A particularly drunk customer had staggered behind the elf woman while she was attempting to sort things out peacefully with the fool who had been knocked flat on his ass. Aspero threw one of his duller knives at the man, the handle hitting his head at high speed and knocking him unconscious. The lousy drunkard wasn't even worth killing.


He continued his stride toward the half-elf boy and spoke to him in a gravely voice. "Just why are you working here, brat? Are you starving or homeless?"

 

[kitsunemage]

As soon as the brawl had broken out, Cresselia had immediately sought refuge. Saving a plate of food- a mixture of root vegetables and some fruit- from a collapsing table (Not that the table would have collapsed on it's own, but she figured the two brutes rolling around in the debris had been more then willing to help it considering the silly grins on their faces) Cresselia found herself sitting in an almost quiet corner of the bar. Close to the entrance, easy to escape, and wedged between the bar counter and a wall. The only way someone would be getting to her in there was if they specifically came after her. With that thought in mind Cresselia hastily donned the white hood that hid her features- hoping to pass as a local of some kind.


She was content to linger there, scarfing down a meal that tasted as heavenly as if it had come from her mothers gardens. That was probably the starvation talking to her- but the tart fruits and sweet vegetables were like heaven to her senses. The water earlier had helped restore some of her strength, but with this she could once again feel the magi she used to make her living. Setting aside the plate in an area where it should be safe, unless the brawl got too crazy, (Not something she entirely doubted if her party had anything to say about that) she settled in to watch the show; ready to jump in at the first signs of any danger to her group members.


They probably needed the fight to release some pent up energy in any case.


That was how it would have stayed as well, seeing as both Piras and Roland were more then capable of handling bar riff-raff (If they weren't then she wouldn't be here) had it not been for the elf-child who had jumped into the fray himself. Wielding nothing but a broom, and with no protection aside from a very disfigured... was that a tunic? Or a potato sack? Pulling herself from her musings on the childs clothing, Cresselia had been debating on jumping in. Until the man cloaked in darkness approached.


She could still see the lingering traces of blood on his hands, the scars on what little skin was showing. There was a menacing aura around him, and she wouldn't leave one of her brethren (Even if he was only a half elf, considering his ears) to face him alone. She tried worming her way through the crowd- apologizing when someone was shoved into her, trying to walk around writhing masses of bodies throwing punches. That was, until some brute caught her shoulder in a wild swing, and her temper snapped.


"You ungracious, brutish, Bawdy, Base court dim witted goatish half wits! Get out of my way!" Her shout was accompanied by a stomp of her foot, the heel of her boot sparking the magic she had prepared for just such an occasion. A manipulation of a spell her mother had loved to use, to call life back into a seed. All it required was a little bit of sun- not hard to find in this gods forsaken desert- moisture- once again, easy with all the spilled drink on the floor, and just a little, touch, of magic.





Roots, slowly at first, began to writhe out of the baseboards. Twigs sprouted from tables, chairs- every bit of wood between her and the elf suddenly came writhing to life, snaring ankles, arms, dragging rolling bodies out of her path and making a clear shot to the young blonde haired elf. All except for one stubborn fellow, wrestling with a vine on the ground, whom she promptly stepped over just in time to catch the strangers words.


"I hope you're just curious, or were you looking for another poor soul to take advantage of?" A wild swing, but one she hoped would make an impact. The blood on his hands certainly added evidence to her statement.

 

[Sir Raime]

Aspero lazily turned his bandaged head to the elf woman. "Personally, I'm aiming for the latter, not the former. If this kid is indebted to the manager of this place or working to stay alive, I'll just buy him out like a slave. He's pretty damn quick, so I figure he'll be good at the kind of work I have in mind.


Awfully strange place for a tree-hugger like yourself to be, isn't it? Your race doesn't normally take kindly to the desert. If you have any foreign herbs or plants, I'd be willing to exchange some aloe salves for them, because you're apparently broke and look like a damned lobster." Aspero would have chuckled at his own statement if he hadn't already lost all room for mirth in his soul.

 

[Sen Pai]

The tavern was being flipped upside down by the bar fight that was started by a simple lack of money. Chairs and tables had been thrown around the room by the participants of the fight, some of them had even broken from the harsh handling that they were given. It seemed that everyone had their own reason for joining in the bar fight, mostly everyone in the room were screaming and yelling at one another. There were those who joined to protect one of the two original people who had started the bar fight, there were some who were pulled into it when they got hit, and then there was Levarnius who thought it would be fun.


The bartender and a few servers who hadn’t also been pulled into the bar fight or trying to stop it were hiding somewhere in the tavern. A waitress, the one that Roland was flirting with, was pressed up against a wall, her tray in front of her in attempt to protect herself. She was shivering in fear and flinched whenever she saw someone get hit. The bartender had tried to stop the bar fight at first but when a bottle was thrown in his direction and skimmed his cheek, he immediately ducked down and hid behind the bar. The entire tavern was chaos and the fight didn’t seem like it would be ending any time soon.


Suddenly, the door to the tavern slammed open. “What is going on here?” A woman’s loud voice boomed through the tavern, her entrance had caught some of the people’s attention but her very presence demanded awareness and respect. She was a very tall and slim woman, her noticeably long legs were quite feared since they were so dangerous. She was dressed in light brown baggy pants and a tight turtleneck with no sleeves. The woman had tan skin like the rest of the civilians of Ethym but her hair was a light blonde. She also had the long ears of an elf. A desert elf to be precise. The very noticeable tattoo down her arm was the insignia of a famous desert elven clan in Arad; the Sand Raiders.


There were two men who stood behind her. One of incredible size, his muscles was of the strength to rival gladiators in the Laem Empire and although he was not as tall as a giant, he held a certain air around him. His eyes were sharp like a hawk and he emotionlessly stared at the tavern. Even if he did not say a word, his size, bright red hair, tan skin, and Sand Raider tattoo called for people to look at him. The other man, however, was of the same height as the woman. Standing at around six feet, perhaps a little taller, the man was definitely young. He had a slightly lighter skin tone than his companions but what stood out about him were the markings on his body. He was an aemal, a sand cat aemal. Rather than having fur, the young man – perhaps sixteen? – had the markings all over his body, including his face.


They were stripes, similar to that of a tiger’s. His fingernails were practically considered claws since they were so long and sharp and his teeth were sharper than usual. His short, messy hair was an interesting shade of purple and when he struck his tongue out in disgust of the scene, you could see the stamp of a slave tattooed onto his tongue. He wore an outfit similar to that of the woman’s; baggy pants, black turtleneck with no sleeves, boots that made it easier to travel in the desert, but for some reason, he had more accessories. Gold bracelets were around his wrists and a beautiful earring hung from his right ear. The young man even wore a chain necklace that was tucked underneath the cloak that screamed expensive. He was one of the two extremely loyal servants to the woman, the owner of the tavern and many other businesses in Ethym.


The bar fight slowly came to a stop as the woman walked into the tavern, making very unpleasant sounds of irritation when she saw the state of her business. Walking up to the two men who had begun the madness, the woman stared down at them since they were on the floor, beating one another up. The two men that were behind her simply followed, they were both completely silent but for different reasons. Joris, the muscular man, stared at the scene before him with emotionless eyes. He didn’t seem to care but he listened to the woman’s words attentively enough. Ivana, the aemal, was also quiet, but he watched the woman with curious eyes, wanting to see what she would do next.


“Get up.” The woman spoke, her voice as cold as ice but her eyes burning with enough anger to burn down the entire kingdom. Not that she would do that, it would mean losing all of her businesses since she made most of her living in Ethym. “I said, get up!” The woman raised her voice and stomped her foot on the ground, successfully catching the attention of the two men who had started the bar fight. Eyes widening when she saw the giant, the woman groaned and leaned back on one foot. “Gordon, what are you doing?”


Gordon the giant looked up at the woman with a sense of duty in his eyes. “I’m protecting your tavern. This little rascal ate without paying!” The giant pointed his finger at Roland, who was beaten up and bruised by the giant, but somehow, still alive. Roland glared at the giant, the blood running down his face from his nose. This answer caused the woman to roll her eyes, turn around and walk towards the door of the tavern. She decided not to worry about matters such as trivial as the cause of the bar fight.


“You know what we usually do to those who do that, Gordon.” The elven lady turned her head to stare at the giant with disapproving eyes. “Just make them work until they pay it off.” Shrugging nonchalantly, the woman quickly glanced over to the half-elf who had eaten so much without paying a single coin. “However, since you caused this much damage to both the boy and the tavern, you have to take responsibility.” With those words, the desert elf opened the door of the tavern but paused before leaving. “Xavier, I’ll leave this matter in your hands.” And then she and the two men left.


Xavier, the bartender, got up and stared at the two men on the ground. The waiters and waitresses had already begun to place the tables and chairs back in place and take away the broken ones. They were cleaning up the floor, sweeping and mopping up any food or glass that spilled. Xavier watched as the faces on both Gordon and Roland twisted up, one in fear and the other in joy, when he devilishly smirked and said, “Gordon, isn’t this tavern messed up? You hurt that young man quite a bit as well...” Xavier trailed off and bent down to pour a woman a glass of his signature drink. “It’s going to cost quite a bit of money.” That drink is infamously called the Devil’s Orange.


“Ah! Bartender!” Roland exclaimed. Somehow, even in his beaten up state, he could still speak with such volume. “I have request.” Getting up from the ground, Roland extended his good arm out to the giant to help him up. With a triumphant smirk on his face, Roland looked down at the giant on the ground and said, “I would like you to take us to The White Tower.” And that’s how the group was able to secure themselves a ride to their first dungeon, the dungeon of one hundred floors. But, there was a bit of a problem. The bandits.

 

[Lucem]

Levarnius felt a few of the strands of his long, golden hair whisked away by the wind created from the fist that nearly connected with his cheek when he picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. When the man closing in caught his attention and came into full view, he was curious when instead of the drunkard he had been expecting, a walking roll of bandages stood at his side. Yet another person in the bar had managed to gain the young man's interest with their physical appearance.


Hearing the man's question, Levarnius came to the confusion that he must've been a local. He based this on the way he had been addressed, as almost everyone he came across would refer to him as "brat". Not that others in his previous travels hadn't referred to him as such. He was just never around when they did, due to his constant movement.


Thinking over the raspy man's question as he dodged more incoming blows, Levarnius had a tough time making a decision. After a moment of consideration, Levarnius scratched the back of his head and let out a chuckle that was accompanied by an awkward laugh. "I guess you could say I'm both at the moment." With no money in his pockets or food in his stomach since his arrival in this tavern, he was on both sides of the fence.


Levarnius' attention was drawn away from the bandages man when the wooden floors at his feet began to spread out and writhe as if it was being possessed. In the center of all this was surprisingly the female Elf he had seen enter with the rest of the group. He was captivated by her actions and absolutely amazed by what she was capable of doing. This had to be magic and was vastly different compared to what he performed with his magi. In fact, his ability could be considered just the opposite of what the elder woman had just performed. To him, it was quite beautiful and reminded him of the forest to a degree.


The mixed child's adoration was soon ended when he heard the familiar sound of the man's raspy voice. 'Slave?' This man had just made a rather rude remark and the meaning behind those words would make most people's skin crawl. However, Levarnous was different.


Despite hearing the man's quite obvious ill intentions, the Half-Elf did not feel even an ounce of fear. He had noticed his hands and his nose had picked up the rather familiar scent of blood, but he preferred to believe that this was the result of slaying an animal for food, since this wasn't uncommon in his village. He did not fear this man or what he may do to him, treating everyone the way he felt more or less. However, this did not mean he was comfortable with being a slave. If he was forced into servitude, he would never be able to save his home.


Levarnius' attention soon shifted once more when the doors to the tavern were suddenly slammed open. All quickly became silence and everyone's attention was focused on the new arrivals, now including himself. In the doorway were three figures that had changed the atmosphere in less than a second.


It didn't take Levarnius long to recognize the woman and her companions, as he had met them soon after the incident that resulted in his current state. When he noticed her eyes trail over to him, he foolishly gave a smile and waved like they were best friends. While the woman and the two men at her service were surely intimidating, he still enjoyed seeing them to the confusion of many.


The owner was one of his people and this was comforting to him. He was always interested in meeting an Elf and learning about how they were different from the ones in his village or if they had ever experienced similar issues. Joris, the muscular man, had garnered his attention for his massive size and large muscles. He liked to meet strong people and the firey-haired man certainly fit the bill. He took an interest in Ivana not only because of his being an Aemal, a race he had never seem before while in isolation, but also because they seemed to be around the same age. It had been a long time since he met anyone that was within his year. Of course the feelings weren't reciprocated very well and the young man was often ignored by the trio, but he never minded. He was always friendly and willing to talk enough for all of them.


As the talk over what had just transpired continued, Levarnius ears twitched a bit when he heard one of the men involved in the start of the fight make a request. 'White Tower?' He had never heard of such a thing, but his mind ran rampant thinking about all of the possibilities. With each new thought, his excitement grew. It eventually reached a point where he could no longer contain himself and quickly approached the male with the cursed arm.


"Hey, what's The White Tower?" Full of energy, even after the brawl that had occurred, Levarnius voiced his question quite loudly and with his eyes shining full of wonder.

 

[kitsunemage]

She couldn't tell if the young elf's nonchalance with the stranger in front of him was due to naiveté, or simply a belief in his skills. Whatever the case, the man was armed, while he was not. So as unobtrusively as possible, using the dispelling of her magic as an excuse, Cresselia stepped forwards and in between the man and his prey- leaning down to gently stroke the tendril of one long vine. Encouraging it to go back to it's dormant state. The vines and new leaves of growth quickly retreated between cracks in floorboards, taking refuge from the heat before returning to the states they initially sprung from.


"The white tower is a dungeon in this area. It is said that one can find great treasures within it's depths. But it comes at a great risk- not many who enter come out alive." She explained from across the room, sticking close to the bandaged stranger. Quieter, and to the man standing beside her with an undertone of seething she said "And for your information I am not broke. A good magician is never penniless." More to the point- after snubbing the man by turning away from him (Though she would never show her back, that just screamed stupidity) she started trailing her hands over her arms, nudging the cells into new growth. Wherever her hands trailed, the burns quickly faded. Using it on herself like this used quite a bit of energy- but she figured the show would be worth it if it made him hesitate for even a second.

 

[Sir Raime]

"What the elf woman neglected to mention is that one of the most important skills to have as a dungeon explorer is speed and agility, both of which you have in spades, kid." Aspero said to the Halfling child before looking back to the elf in question. "Whatever you say. Heh." He quietly cackled. Aspero approached the bartender. "Xavier, have someone cook up your biggest meal possible." He tossed a rather hefty sack of gold coins to the man, with a little extra to alleviate some of the costs of the damage from the bar fight. Aspero sat back down at a nearby table and began to hum an eerie tune to himself, mocking Cresselia with his money.


"So, I take it the lot of you are here to scour the White Tower? Most foreigners that come in wearing such colorful clothes tend to have that objective in mind. Of course, they always get beset by bandits, raiders and slavers on the way there. If anyone in this damn desert country knows about slavers, it'd be me."

 

[Lucem]

Upon hearing the elder Elf's explanation about The White Tower, Levarnius' face lit up even brighter than it already was, which seemed impossible when he almost always looked ecstatic. 'Great treasure?' The blond had no clue what these dungeons were that she was referring to, but the prospect of finding items of value was more than enough to have this destination ingrained in his mind.


The bandaged man's words made him even more excited about this new information. If you needed to be quick and nimble in order to be successful, then he was more than qualified. He had spent his entire life in the perfect environment for honing such skills. This didn't mean he was lacking in the strength department, however. He was taught that balance was always important and needed to be as strong in the arms as he was in the legs, but he certainly excelled when it came to maneuverability.


All the young man could think of was the prospect of aquiring enough money to fund his army. Even if he would still need funds, he could probably make a big name for himself by making it through this dungeon and earn more money as a mercenary. While he knew nothing about the true nature of The White Tower or the dungeons and how closely they related to his personal agenda, he held onto the thought that he could save his village in no time at all.


Clenching his fist with a determined expression, Levarnius turned to face the man known as Gordon. "I'll be going too!" Without knowing a thing, Levarnius placed himself into the middle of a dangerous journey and voluntarily at that.


Following his proclamation, Levarnius began to give what could be called his sales pitch. "I don't know what these dungeons are, but you'll be probably needing all the help you can get, right? Well, I'm a quality mercenary and I'd be happy to help!" Flexing his arm with a fiery expression, which would've been more impressive if he hadn't been wearing a sack for a shirt, Levarnius gave his brightest smile and made a pointing gesture with his thumb toward himself. "Take me along and you won't regret it!" Again, such words would be more trustworthy if his top hadn't been filled with vegetables not so long ago.

 

[Sen Pai]

Roland grinned and stroked his imaginary beard when a young half-elf approached him and asked what The White Tower was. “Great enthusiasm!” Giving the half-elf big thumbs up, Roland draped an arm, his non-cursed arm, over the half-elf’s shoulder and dramatically posed. “Yes, what the lady says is true.” Roland sighed and placed his other hand on his forehead. “The White Tower is a vicious place where not many have returned from.” Leading the young half-elf around the tavern, Roland took his arm off of the young man and began jumping around as if he was performing on a stage. Your success as a gladiator usually depended on whether or not you gave your audience a captivating performance.


“There are one hundred floors in The White Tower.” Roland loudly exclaimed, throwing his arms out. One would have thought that the young man was exaggerating but upon sight of the dungeon, it was most likely true. “Each one is said to test your skills, be it intellect,” Roland gestured at his head. “Strength,” The young man seemed to be pointing at his biceps but he was throwing looks at Cresselia and paused in the middle of his sentence to whisper to one of the men that “the pretty elven woman over there is a demon when angry”. “And, of course, the greatest trait of all,” Roland jumped on top of a table and folded his arms over his chest. “Bravery!”


Pointing at the half-elf, Roland nodded and grinned at the blonde. “Yeah, I like you! You’ve got guts! What’s your name? You can come with us!” Having made the decision without consulting the bartender or the rest of his travelling companions, Roland was pretty confident in the fact that his friends wouldn’t mind another head to count whenever there was a battle. The more the merrier! Roland saw something great in those eyes, something that was similar to the description of the eyes of Baron Alvin. Well, that’s what Roland imagined Baron Alvin’s eyes to be like. He always thought that the first dungeon diver was a pretty cool guy even if he never met him personally.


Glancing over to the other man who had asked about The White Tower, Roland smirked and jumped off of the table upon request of one of the waitresses who was trying to clean up the mess that the bar fight had made. “Scour? No, we’re not into dungeon diving for the money.” Roland shook his head even though it was very likely that some of his companions only joined him because there was treasure in the dungeons. “We’re doing it to reveal the truth!” There were groans of annoyance when a few of the onlookers finally recognized who Roland was and what he was going to go on sprouting nonsense about. Some even left the tavern rolling their eyes and mocking Roland. “The Twelve Beasts of Jezebel. They’re real.”


“Oh, go home, you moron!” Someone shouted from the crowd of bystanders. This caused uproar in the tavern but Roland completely ignored them, even dodging a mug that came flying his way. “Everyone knows that the Twelve Beasts are just rumours, stories told to children before their bedtime.” More and more people left the tavern while Xavier frowned and tried to get the people to stay since that wouldn’t be good for the business.


Roland stared straight into the eyes of the bandaged man and grinned. “There’s something suspicious going on, don’t you think? Don’t you want to get down and find out the truth behind the mystery? If what you say is true and you know a lot about the slave traders, then why don’t you join us? Your knowledge could come in handy one day.” Turning around to face the rest of the tavern, even though more than half of the people had already left, Roland stood, his head tilted up with confidence. “We’re looking for more people to join us on this quest! Who's with me?!”


The tavern was silent.

 

[Sir Raime]

Aspero stood up, looking the odd guy in the eyes. "I know my way around these parts, so I suppose I can provide my services in exchange for whatever treasure I can get my grubby little hands on." Aspero looked him over, taking in his appearance. "You're that nut that's been raving about the Twelve Beasts all over everywhere, aren't you? People say you're a madman, but frankly....that isn't the strangest thing I've seen or heard. However, I haven't heard any mysteries other than the usual story of travelers getting kidnapped by raiders."


"I can also whip up some half-decent things to eat, even with what little sustenance the sands provide, but...." Aspero stepped back cautiously. "Whatever you've got going on with that arm of yours, keep it away from me. It emits a feeling of...wrongness. My talismans are picking up bad vibes like you wouldn't believe. That aside, we'll need a caravan for transport."

 

[kitsunemage]

“How many times must I tell you to keep up your guard. One of these days you’re going to get an injury I can’t heal.” She approached Roland, reaching up (Why was he so damned tall?) to turn his chin towards her and give her a better look at his face. “Not broken,” She mused out loud, sharp amber eyes scrutinizing with a clinical look, “but just about. This will only take a second.” Reaching within herself to her store of magi once more, Cresselia started up her simplest healing formula. One to reduce swelling, and stop the bleeding. Another to encourage the ‘wound’ to heal faster.


But she would leave him the bruise. He deserved it, for asking both men to their party without consulting her and Piras first. Even if she didn’t mind the elf along, she really didn’t want to get stabbed in her sleep. Bad for the complexion, you know.


“Piras? Are you injured as well- Where did that girl go?” Cresselia took a cursory glance around the tavern, looking for the she elfs familiar head of hair. Normally she was difficult to lose track of- but she supposed these weren’t exactly normal circumstances.

 

[Goddess]

While everything came to a rest Piras was seated on the bar counter with her legs and arms crossed. She watched as Roland began to talk to the other half elf that was present. She groaned as she began to study the young boy, seeing if he was truly cut out to be one of them, to follow the path of truth and wonder. Her ears perked up when he had mentioned what exactly they were doing, their true goals. Piras had nodded her head with such passion. It stopped though when someone had yelled out they were rumors. "Rumors are nothing but tales made up by the weak who fails to venture out from their warm little home. This is not a rumor but a fact, for the great creators had told me a story once of the beautiful Jezeble , her followers and the beast that stalk this very world." The bystander had laughed and called her story folly. With burning fury Piras jumped off the counter and began to walk toward the crowd. "You can laugh at me, my comrades, my story and anything else but you will not..no I will not allow you to mock the creators. "


Piras blew steam from her nose as she shoved through the crowd to find the one who spoke out. "Come , speak your mind. You had no problems doing it a few seconds ago." A female had grabbed Pira's wrist , trying to tug on her. "Do you want to start another bar fight?" Piras snatched her hand away before growling at the woman. " This will be no bar fight but a death sentence , he shall suf-" Piras stopped her speech before looking down and away. Her actions were unsightly and could be causing trouble for Roland. Biting her lip she turned away from her previous route and began to walk the other way. Nearing the man who had helped her out by using a knife, she had sat herself in a chair then crossed her leg.


"Roland I wish to leave as soon as possible."

 

[Croissant]

Sol


Sol sat inside the large white tented caravan whose cloth roof was ridden with holes, allowing the harsh rays of the sun to peek through Sol's current abode. He had hidden under cargo when he had found the caravan during a chase and he had hidden inside it. The caravan had begun moving only minutes later and since then Sol has been surviving off some of the food and the limited amount of water. The inside of the caravan was cozy, lined with soft decorated cushions probably made for trade with merchants in the area, it seems there were people on duty guarding the caravan constantly so there wasn't much Sol could do, but this place was driving him mad. Having to be so careful of the frequent visitors taking cargo out of the carriage, soon it would be hard for him to hide away or run away in certain situations. He had 2 options, either run away swiftly into what sounded like a crowd and blend in, stay and hope the cart moves, or steal the cart somehow.


He was oddly attracted to the last option it seemed like the most outlandish since he was in the middle of a desert but he was desperate for supplies, he wondered if they knew he was here. As another worker came in he hid behind a box far inside the caravan. It was decided, he would run and try to keep himself from being captured. He stood, his scimitar in it's leather sheath, he then jumped out of the carriage and looked around, it seemed the man carrying the supplies had left to a tavern. He wondered if there were others in the area.


He then the tip of a dagger press against the back of his neck.


--Great...--


His options were limited so he went with the nice approach, he raised his hands slightly and said


"Hello there..."


From the deep voice of the person behind him it was obvious it was male, his rough voice spoke out towards Sol and said.


"So you finally came out!"


He lowered his dagger and then gripped Sol's shoulder and forcefully turned him around. The man looked in his mid 40s very broad body build wise he was slightly taller than Sol, before he had turned Sol around he had disarmed him of his scimitar, Sol kept his hands up, not wanting a fight at the moment but the man nodded and said.


“You can lower your hands, I won’t kill ya. I saw you were being chased and you hid inside out cart, I was aware you were there all this time and you didn’t seem like much of a criminal.”


He gave Sol and nod but Sol simply lowered his hands. He looked at the man, extending his arm to reach for the Scimitar, the man pulled back and said


“Oh, no you aren’t getting off this caravan with no consequences after stowing away inside. I saved you, so now you must follow me to meet a certain person. The name’s Gilligan by the way, what about yourself.”


Gilligan said as he walked away, he signaled Sol to follow and Sol did, the man was right and in the Arena honor was a valued thing, since it was one of the least used methods. Considering you were both going to tear each other apart.


“Sol.”


Sol walked along with the man, another guard seemed to watch the caravan now, they seemed to be headed towards a tavern...






​

 

[Lucem]

As he was dragged around the tavern by the older male, Levarnous became entranced by his words, as well as the displays he provided. This man held the blond's full attention and he was impressed. He and the rest of his group were some of the most interesting people he had ever met, but this guy was someone that he could look up to. Even though thy had just met, he found himself really enjoying this new company.


When he had finished with his explanation and directed his finger towards him, Levarnius was practically boiling with excitement. It seemed as if he would burst at any second when the decision had been made to take him along. This was truly the highlight of his journey so far.


Thrusting his arms into the air to celebrate, Levarnius cheered aloud, but it could practically be described as a howl. Arms moving from above his head to his midsection, the young man began to settle a bit when he momentarily forgot the man's question. With a plastered grin and the same prior thumb gesture, he finally gave out the name that no one had asked for until this point. "The name's Levarnius! You can call me Levy for short! Heck, you can call me anything you want now that we're traveling together!"


Following his boisterous proclamation, there was a brief period of silence, the boy's head now drooping a bit. After a moment of looking conflicted and mentally debating, he raised his head and reattached his previous delighted expression. "My last name is Eldridge."


When his grandfather had told him about the man known as his father before leaving the village, he had been given first name, only the one that had been passed down his lineage. His adoptive grandparent felt that it would be all he needed considering the familial resemblance, but also wanted the journey to be a learning experience. There was also the fact that there was a part of him that didn't want his grandchild to find his father, knowing the dangers that would come along with the meeting.


Last names were common and were a mark of pride that signified your heritage. However, given the circumstances of his birth and both parents being estranged, Levarnius had none to bear. Of course Halem'Khai would've loved to give the child his own, but he felt such a thing wasn't his place and would be disrespectful to the ones that brought him into this world, no matter how he felt about them. The boy was content with this and carried his middle name 'Khai' with great pride, but he felt that having a formal last name would be necessary now that he was in the outside world. He was conflicted with the decision, since he had never known the man who abandoned him at birth, but he saw that there were positive results from taking the name. Perhaps someone would recognize the name and point him in the right direction for finding the elder Eldridge.


Levarnius' concentration on the older man was temporarily broken when he changed his position and began taking about things known as The Twelve Beasts, as well as the name Jezebel. Not knowing about the dungeons or The White Tower, as well as these so called beasts, it was obvious that he had a lot to learn about this new world. However, this only made him more excited. These Twelve Beasts of Jezebel sounded incredibly interesting, but it seemed as though these feelings weren't reciprocated by the rest of the tavern.


The uproar and the silence that followed after the man's question made it seem as if nobody believed in these beasts, which were apparently believed to be some kind of folktale. His grandfather had told him several during his childhood under the night sky, but he had never used such names to describe the people and events in his stories.


His thoughts of the past were interrupted when the Elven woman from before caught his attention with what seemed to be another incredible display of magic. Moving in to get a closer look, Levarnius' eyes grew wider with each passing moment. "Amazing!" He would've never imagined such incredible feats could be performed, even if this was minor compared to what they must've seen. "Hey, do you think you can teach me how to do that? I would be really useful if I could fix myself up like that!"


Shifting his gaze once gain upon hearing the commotion coming from another side of the tavern, Levarnius noticed the other woman that had entered earlier. His face brightened to an unusual degree upon noticing her features. They looked similar to his, something he hadn't seen since he was born. What if this woman had mixed blood as well? That would be absolutely incredible! He loved his Elven family back home and meeting new ones along the way, but encountering someone that was the same as him was unprecedented. Being one of a kind could be really lonely, so this made him all the more ecstatic. This was truly a fine day.


Following the woman's outburst, Levarnius released a small whistle, impressed by her nature. This would be an interesting group to travel with. Maybe it was fortunate that he had walked into he tavern on that day.


Turning to the man with the unusual arm, Levarnius positioned himself closer. "So, your name's Roland? I like it, it sounds really strong!" Letting out a small laugh, the blond pictured all the fun he would be having on this trip. Of course, he neglected the fact that he was still working off a large debt and had his possessions on lockdown...

 

[ZaiKai]

Leon sighs. He remains watching from the corner of the room, having moved there when Gordon had approached Roland. Watching Roland speak to the half-elf, he thinks about what had happened. They had traveled through the scorching hot desert for days, and had suffered from water shortage. He scolds himself for not having been more prepared. He should have known that after growing up in the winter kingdom of Umirea, his body wouldn't very well be used to such high temperatures. Especially not the Goddess Desert. Of all the stupid things he'd done, he had to go on a trip to the desert...


He shakes his head to himself. Whatever price he's paying, it's worth it. The chance to unlock the secrets of the dungeons, one of the biggest secrets in Arad, is too large to throw away over a few days of near death. Besides, most of those days they had water. And most of those days they hadn't been quite so miserable. Of course, there was the incident with the cactus juice, and the extreme thirst of earlier that day.


Of course, they would have always had the option of sacrificing one of the others to the Cactus Gods. If they sacrificed Piras and Cresselia, he and Roland would have had at least enough time to spend another week in the desert before dying. He shakes his head again, chuckling to himself. Then, his smile fades and he begins drumming his fingers on the table, which he had managed to keep safe from the bar fight. However, he couldn't say the same thing for the chairs, as he was on his knees presently, but that's besides the point.


His mood darkens as he remembers the way they had thoughtlessly rushed to the rescue when that merchant - who even remembers his name? His name was probably something like Stupid Fruit-Merchant. Or maybe John. There are lots of people named John. He shakes his head more forcefully. He had lost his train of thought again. The merchant had asked for help, saying he had been stolen from. They had thoughtlessly attempted a heroic act by chasing the thief. They had caught the girl, Minali, as the merchant approached.


He couldn't forget that scene. The merchant, whose large face grew even more red on his large body, had looked upon Minali in rage. He had raised his wooden spoon up towards the bright desert sun, and swung it down, hitting the frightened little girl in the face. As he remembers it, he clenches his fists, looking down. He did the right thing, shoving that idiot merchant and saving the girl. However, it hadn't ended right. After showing them the tavern, she had disappeared, and now they also had no money. But surely the two things are unrelated, Minali seemed innocent enough, even after having stolen the watermelon.


Their current predicament, Leon thinks, is thus: They just stuffed themselves with tavern food after starving in the desert for a few days. They are on their way to the White Tower after stopping in Ethym, which they are currently doing. They can't expect to walk there, as that obviously didn't work out very well last time, but there are currently bandits raiding caravans. Their choices, he continues to himself, are thus: Turn back, stop the bandits, try to rely on luck, or go out with countless other caravans, thus decreasing the chances of their caravan being raided and not the others. However, he knew the first and fourth were not options, and he hated luck. Luck sucks.


Leon looks up, realizing he was still drumming his fingers and frowning at the ground. He stops frowning, and slowly stops the drumming of his fingers. He stands up, groaning as his knees ache from having been kneeling for so long (aside from other things) and walks over to where Roland and Levarnius stand to see what's happening and if there's anything he should do.

 

[Sen Pai]

A cheeky grin spread across Roland’s face when he successfully recruited another member to join him on his quest for the truth. The man was completely bandaged up from head to toe and wore a cowboy hat that covered his eyes. Yes, he did look very suspicious but from Roland’s memory of the bar fight that had occurred not too long ago, this demon had a few tricks up his sleeve. Roland was about to throw his arm over the bandaged man’s neck like he did with Levarnius when he mentioned his arm and how it gave off bad vibes. Chuckling somewhat nervously, Roland slowly lowered his arm and gave the bandaged man two big thumbs up before having his head forcefully turned downwards.


Staring into the honey coloured eyes of the elven healer, Roland smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head as Cresselia examined his bloody nose. That Gordon sure could throw a punch. Knowing better than to move from his spot, Roland followed the usual procedures of letting Cresselia do what she usually does. He wasn’t as experienced with magic as the elf, she did have two hundred and nineteen years to study it after all. While Cresselia began to reduce the swelling of his nose and stop the bleeding, Roland glanced over to the young half-elf who said his name was Levarnius.


Beaming at the blonde boy, Roland flashed Levarnius a somewhat pained smile as his wound was healed by Cresselia. “Cool name!” Roland exclaimed, also giving Levarnius a thumbs up. “I’m Roland, Roland Adair and this lovely lady here,” He gestured down to Cresselia, hoping that she wasn’t mad at him for getting hurt during the bar fight. Roland guessed that she was simply tired from having to use her magi all the time to heal him. Only the Deities know just how many times Roland has found himself wounded, and during the whole journey, Cresselia was the one who stood up and took up the tiring task of healing.


“Is Cresselia, the blondie over there is Leonel,” As if on cue, Leonel walked up to both Levarnius and Roland, looking around to see if there was anything that he could do. “And your fellow half-elf over there is Piras Ena Zoi.” Roland emphasized every syllable of Piras’ full name, making it seem like he wanted to get the fiery red-head’s name stuck into Levarnius’ head. “Doesn’t she have a badass name?” Leaning down slightly to get to Levarnius’ level, Roland grinned before turning to look at Piras only to find her picking a fight with the bystander who had called out during Roland’s explanation.


“Roland, I wish to leave as soon as possible.” Piras down on a chair and crossed her legs, looking rather conflicted with the decision she had to make. Of course, Roland wasn’t going to let Piras sulk like that.


Touching the bruise on his nose, Roland looked over at Piras and nodded. “It seems that we have stayed here for longer than expected,” Strolling nonchalantly over to Gordon, Roland gave the giant and hard pat on the back and said, “Well, let’s go see that caravan, shall we?” Bursting out into somewhat obnoxious laughter, Roland began to walk towards the door, waving goodbye to Xavier the bartender. Suddenly, the door opened and two figures stood in the group’s way. Roland raised an eyebrow when he saw the large muscular man who was dressed in the same way as Gordon. Perhaps he was here to guide them to the caravan?


“Gordon,” the large man approached the giant caravan leader, pushing a smaller tanned man forward. “I found this rascal stowing away in our caravan.” Roland turned his head to stare at a tanned young man, then again, so did Gordon. “He was eating our food as well.”


The giant sighed and walked up to the young man. “Son, what’s your name?” Gordon folded his arms over his huge chest and impatiently waited for an answer. And of course, he got one immediately after he had asked.


“Sol.”

. . . . . . . . . .

​

The caravan was big. As in Gordon the giant big. It seemed like there were a lot of people travelling in that caravan as well. However, most of them were a part of the caravan and were also traders. The carts were covered by a beige coloured tarp, some of them were so worn down that they had holes in them, and were pulled by an assortment of animals. Some were being pulled by the typical horses that were bred to survive the heat of the desert, others had camels, there was even one that was being pulled by one gigantic elephant with a name tag that said, “Bethany”. Roland assumed that was Gordon’s tent.


Gordon trudged behind the group, keeping a sharp eye on them. He looked very tired and obviously did not want these hooligans near his precious caravan. The giant took a deep breath in and then shouted a few words to a small dwarf who was swinging a hammer around and almost knocked over a young lady with long black hair. It was then when Roland realized why Gordon was the leader of such a big caravan. Like the elven woman in the tavern, Gordon had a sort of aura that demanded respect since he was authority in the caravan. The giant was indeed a good leader, someone who was willing to step up and defend what he believed in, which was why the bar fight had started in the first place.


The giant gestured for the group to turn their attention to him and tapped his foot until he had gotten everyone’s eyes on him. “I have another hitchhiker like you guys and I do not offer free rides.” Gordon seemed to growl at the group, glaring mainly at Roland for getting him to give the people a ride. “You will work while you are travelling with us, you will not break anything or else you have to buy it,” An elderly woman tapped Gordon’s leg and got his attention before gesturing for him to bend down and whispering something into his ear. Gordon frowned and sighed before continuing. “Just don’t do anything stupid.” The giant hurried off, following the old woman who walked surprisingly fast despite how ancient she appeared.


Suddenly, a group of men on horses rode by the group with a panicked expression on their face. One of the men turned to look at the group and said, “Have you seen Gordon?” The man appeared to be in his early thirties and had most of his face hidden by cloth. Another man, a reptile-like one whose eyes were a shocking blood red rode up next to the man whose face was hidden and shook his head. He didn’t say a word but the man who had asked the group if they had seen Gordon seemed to have understood the dravus and hurried off in the opposite direction in which Gordon had headed. That was when Roland overheard three women talking to one another with worried tones.


“Oh, dear, they weren’t attacked by bandits, were they?” The dark haired woman from before gazed at the men riding off on horses as she spoke to the other two women with her.


“I’m afraid so. Those bandits are getting out of control.” An older woman who carried a small baby handed the child over to his mother, who was the next to speak.


“Even after the patrols between Lawiel and Ethym were set up, the bandits are still attacking caravans… If this keeps up, we’ll have to change our route completely.” The mother tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear and then moved her worried look down to his child and began to nurse him. She didn’t want her child to be in danger, especially if exposed to the terrifying bandits that roamed the Goddess Desert.

 

[Goddess]

Piras had walked out, right after Roland not giving a care to look behind her. As they joined the caravan , she was positioned to the side of one of the wagons , a little boy with shaggy black and white hair. Piras couldn't but help eye the young one, his hair two different colors was rather new for her other than what her mother's used to be. The young one had looked up before Piras could look away. He gave her a wide smile as he snorted up some of the snot that was falling from his nose. "Are you cold?" Piras had asked only because she wasn't. Whatever the weather was her body would always be one temperature, warm. The boy had nodded his head as he rubbed his arms. "Allow me to assist you." Piras had pulled out a rod, made of fire forged steel. Pressing down a button that resembled a flame, the rod had shot out in front of her. "Give it life." She had commanded, the top of the rod shifting into a lamp that would hold a flame within. Within the lamp was a small orb that was shaped like a flame.


The boy looked at it in awe and asked what was it. "This is the Lamp of Life. It was given to me by my previous mentor. It aids me in many battles." She brought the lamp close and blew into the small holes, her breath reaching the small flame orb. As you could hear it spark, the small orb began to lite a bright orange red. "Here, hold on to this, it'll keep you warm." The boy took hold of the staff , his body temperature rising, as fast as he could blink. "Make sure to hold on to it, if you drop it the light will disappear and you'll be cold again." The boy had asked her wouldn't she be cold but all Piras did was laugh. Her attention was taken away when she heard three females talking, her ears twitching when she heard the news of bandits, and finding a different route. "Stay here young one, I'll return soon enough." The boy nodded his head as he watched Piras move on ahead toward the three females.


"Bandits you say, such evil still taints this world. I Piras will aid this caravan if it indeed does come under a threat." Piras looked over toward the baby. Piras gave her a smile as she lifted a finger. Slowly but surly a flame had sprouted from the tips of her fingers. The image of a fairy began to dance , the baby clapping and laughing as it twirled around. Piras eyes however moved back toward the woman who were speaking. " Not to worry, The people I travel with would never let any harm come to those who help us, or rather anyone at all." The women looked at her with eyes of worry yet hope. "You are quite sure of yourself, can you really."


Piras thought to herself before she let the flame slip from her finger to dance within the air, entertaining the child. "Well...I am sure. The creators would never let me down, unless they had a reason. I was born from a father who used to live in the old world, and had a mother who was of the new world. Not to mention my mentor who was told to be one of the very followers who were guided by our creators. If I were to fail at my job, then Pyro would come." The black haired woman cocked her head to the side. "Pyro? A mate, friend, borhter? Piras laughed as she shook her head. "Neither, Pyro is my pet dragon."


The woman with black hair covered her mouth. "DRAGON!" Piras nodded her head. "Of course, Pyro has been there for me many times, I hardly doubt he would fail this time."