It had been a day just like any other day for Father Mareusis-- another group of Acolytes had been inducted, and sent off to the Saint Capitolina Abbey for training. Wiping his brow with a handkerchief, the elderly priest made his way out of the usual chamber he was in, ready to turn in for the day. He had no been no further than perhaps a few steps from the front doors of the Prontera Church, when a small crying alerted him to a presence nearby.
He turned to see a child sitting under the shade of one of the trees that lined the road leading into the Church. He looked to be no older than four, maybe five-- dirty, and disheveled. His hair was a clump of brown, both natural and from dirt, and he was covered in what looked like dried blood. He didn't seem to be hurt-- so it couldn't have been his own; still, the priest calmly walked over, a sincere smile on his face.
"What has you down, young child?" He asked, the youngster stopping his sobs to look up. Despite his sadness, the child's navy blue eyes held a certain calmness to them, and the priest felt a small tingle inside of him, but he dismissed it. "Are you hurt? Where is your mother and father? Come, off the ground, that's no place for a child." He said, taking the child's arm lightly, and lifting him up. "Everything alright?" He asked.
The youngster remained silent for a bit, before he broke down into tears again, and buried his face in the clergy robes. Immediately, Mareusis' hands consolingly rubbed the boy's back, soothing whispers soon flowing forth. "Mommy... Daddy... gone." He mumbled. Mareusis pushed the boy back to stare into his eyes again. "We were... travelling from Alberta... aaah... and then..."
"Shh... it's okay." Mareusis said, looking around. He knew right away that the child hadn't just gotten himself lost-- by the way he was speaking and acting, "gone" meant he'd lost his parents for good. Still, that didn't make much sense-- most likely his parents and the child had come by boat, to Izlude. That was only a short distance away, and the monsters were so tame the child could have probably dispatched them with minimal training. "What happened?"
"These... these guys... dressed in yellow and brown. I don't know. They dropped a stick and... and bad things came. Mommy and Daddy told me to run to Prontera... I went and started yelling for help. People started talking about dead branches, and then they all rushed out. I... I saw them carrying their bodies." He mumbled. Mareusis just nodded knowingly. The poor boy. Already alone at such a young age. "They said... if anything happened, the church would help."
"We'll do our best, don't you worry." The priest replied, though looking up at the sky, he was greeted with a beautiful orange, darkening with purple strands. "Come inside, we'll get you cleaned up. I had heard about the Dead Branch attack, and I'm sorry for your loss." He said. He ushered the young boy inside, who seemed to go without hesitation. Probably still in shock, Mareusis thought. "Do you have a name?"
"... It's Gerik, father. Mommy and Daddy..."
"Picked a wonderful name for you, child." The priest interrupted, taking the child inside. He was rewarded with a smile over the youngster's shoulder, and returned it in kind.
Still, something in the back of his mind worried him. A group of people dressed in yellow and brown, unleashing Dead Branches on travellers? So close to Prontera and Izlude, too? What was happening to the world, that people would do such a thing?
---
Light poured in the stained glass windows of the church, signaling a new day. Soon, the devouts would come in to have their weekly service. That only left him a few minutes, if that even, to finish.
The brunette stood there, holding a broom that looked like it could have been used by some old magicians or witches of lore, making his way through the pews. Footsteps echoing in the mostly empty hall made him look up, watching as Father Bamph soon stepped into the main chapel area.
"Not finished yet?" He asked-- mildly annoyed, but not angry. "Where is Acolyte Bartuc? He was supposed to be helping yout his morning." The priest asked, looking around. The brunette, a little on the short side, stood there look diminuitive with broom in hand.
"I'm sorry, Father. I know Acolyte Bartuc was suppsoed to help me as he had been charged, but he looked terribly pale and ill. I sent him to Father Mareusis to be looked after. I thought I could finish the sweeping myself before the sermons would start." The brunette replied, his hair long enough to go down to his shoulders. It had been tied back in a neat, yet simple ponytail, just to get it out of his face.
The priest smiled, and simply looked around again, noticing a broom left unhandled against the wall. He went over and took it, starting to help finish the job. "Ah, Father, you don't have--" The brunette started, but was cut off as Bamph simply looked up, and shook his head.
"Can't have them complaining about our church, right?" He asked, with a smile. "I know that you like to think of this place as not only your sanctuary, but your home, Gerik; but please, you are not just a simple janitor. You only have the title because you requested it, so you could pay off the room that we offered you for free. Such a stubborn young lad, even to this very day." The priest said, with a laugh, tones of wisdom and sincerity held within. Gerik just smiled, and continued to sweep down his side.
"I feel like I have to repay you, Father Bamph, no matter how many times I have told you, and you have rejected it. I owe you all my life. From when I was young and lost, you led me along the right paths. So long as my efforts go on to lead other people towards the same, then I feel like I have done my duty. Even if it's just easing the comforts of those who come in here, I want to do my utmost." The brunette said, before he walked into the middle aisle, now sweeping the dust and litter out into the hallway for collection.
"So you constantly tell me." The priest said, laughing once more in that same, wisened gruff. He soon accompanied Gerik into the hall, who quickly stooped over and collected the dust into a pan. "Still, you're coming to that age where many of you youngsters are deciding to go on adventure. That does not entice you at all?"
Gerik stopped his dust gathering for a split second, before continuing. "I... don't know." He mumbled. "I do want to go out, see the world-- return to my old home and things like that. But you know me. I'm not strong, nor quick, nor an amazing scholar. I don't think I'm quite cut out for much adventuring." He said, with a shrug of his shoulders. One of which, soon had Bamph's hand resting on it slightly.
"My child, I have watched you grow, and watched you become who you are. While you might not be those things, you still have gifts inside you that you can nurture, and use to become any sort of adventurer you want to be. You don't need to be a skilled fighter, or a quick archer, or the best mage-- be yourself. That's all that is asked of you." In that moment, as Gerik looked up, the priest seemed to have a glow behind him-- before he realized that was the light coming in through the windows.
"Ah-! The doors! I have to open them!" Gerik said, soon taking the dustpan off into the closet, and dashing for the double doors, soon opening the church yet again to the world. While it was never really "closed" to visitors and those seeking sanctuary at night, the doors were simply kept closed for aesthetic purposes, and safety issues. With a heave, the young brunette's arms pushed open the wide, mahogany doors, and light poured into the chapel once more.
But the Father was right. He was nearing that age. And while he had been here for most of his life, he felt like something else was out there. Something else that made him want to go seek it. "Am I excused for the day, Father? I'll be back after the ceremonies." Gerik asked, looking back. Father Bamph just chortled.
"As if you have to ask. Go on now, have a nice day. May you walk in the Light, Gerik."
The youngster bowed his head in pious reverence, and then made his way out of the church. He did have a few spare zeny after all, working at the church. Maybe it was time to start looking at some gear to go adventuring...
"Back again are ya?" The owner of the weapon and armor shop said. The vendors smiled at Gerik as he stepped in, out of breath as per the usual. Sure, he'd walk out of the church just to be reverent and respectful, but once he passed the last trees on that lane, he made a break for wherever he was going-- the armory always seemed to be a frequent stop.
The youngster just smiled back, catching his breath as he started to walk through the store. He always took his sweet time, admiring every weapon on every rack, sometimes feeling bold enough to take one and get a feel for it-- even if he never bought anything. Today felt different, though. He'd been mulling for the past couple of weeks now over what Father Bamph had said and... he couldn't contain himself any longer.
His hands fell to a simple blade, nothing ornate, or special about it. He gripped the handle, finding he could easily hold its weight with a single arm, and the vendor in charge of those weapon sets piped in. "Ah, you're looking at that one again, huh? No matter how many times people look at that particular sword, no one buys it. It's like it's been just waiting for you." The vendor cheerily said.
He had been eyeing this sword ever since he'd first seen it. And while he had been assured that the blade was no more than a Blade, that there were far easier to handle, or stronger weapons, he still set his eyes on that one over anything.
"Still cost the same?" Gerik asked, and the vendor nodded. If only he were a merchant-- a silver tongue might get him a better deal, or some sort of membership might allow him a couple discounts. Still, he made a mental note. Having earned such and such an amount each week at the church, paying a set amount per month over how many years now-- his face broke into a smile, and he brought the blade to the register.
"Finally walking out of here with it, huh? That'll be 2,900 zeny, please." The vendor said. The brunette casually drew his drawstring pouch on his belt, counting out various gold, platinum, and silver coins. The amount came to 2,900 easily, and he had much to spare. Given a sheath and a belt-tie for the sword, he quickly tied it on with the vendor's help.
"Look at that, starting to look like an adventurer already." The owner quipped, with a smirk. Gerik smiled back widely, moving over to the armor. Their respective merchant came over to him, and was about to give him a spiel on what kinds to get, to mind how heavy it was, the maneuverability, and other aspects of important armor shopping, when there was some sort of explosion outside.
Screams suddenly littered into the shop, and Gerik froze. The owner moved over to the door and stared out, before he started yelling at people to "Get in". People didn't speak for a little-- bodies from the street filing in quickly into the spacious shop.
"What's happening?" Gerik asked someone who huddled behind a rack near him. The man looked absolutely terrified, a mop of unrefined, grass-green hair on his head. Petrified blue eyes stared up, and he blinked a couple times, before his body finally found the will to speak.
"Th-the gang! Yellow and brown.. with a skull and crossed branches on their backs! Dropping Dead Branches... e-everywhere!" He shakily sputtered out. Gerik looked back out to the door, where the owner stood holding it open. Without warning, he dashed out of the shop, hearing the vendors and the owner shouting at him to get back inside.
The streets were little more than chaos. Sure enough, people were screaming and running about, and monsters had begun to litter the streets of Prontera. Figures dressed in a tan-like yellow and dark brown stood calmly in the streets, throwing around branches. Each branch would glow slightly, before it's position had been overtaken by a monster, some more fearful than others.
His hands shook, and he felt his knees quake. It was just like before... just like--
"Step aside." Someone said to him, before shoving him to his left. He was caught by a pair of comforting hands, looking up to see a Priest smiling down at him.
"No worries, we'll handle this. Young ones like yourself need to be somewhere safe, okay?" The priest said, before he stood up. He held in his hands three small coloured gemstones, and each one began to glow it's own hue, before the ground did as well. He stared as a small, square area around him was formed. "Just stay in here. You'll be safe." The priest said, before he stepped out himself.
The one who had shoved him aside, grumbled, fidgeting with a cart. A merchant of sorts? The priest just smiled, and nudged the cart a little. "It's still a little light. Got any junk?" The merchant asked, to which the priest only shrugged his shoulders, and clambered into the cart. The merchant tested the cart by pulling on the handles, and smirking. "That works. You better hang on tight, now."
Before Gerik could warn them, a branch dropped right beside them, one of the assaulting members having stared, and aimed. It broke and started forming a twisting mass, looking like some sort of hollowed trunk, with thorned vines sticking out of it. A naked, and yet eerily beautiful girl was wrapped in the vines, and Gerik thought she had been trapped-- though it soon revealed that her legs faded into a green, forming the vines themselves.
The merchant just hunched down, and began to whirl the cart around him, the priest hanging on as if he'd done this a million times before. "Caaart..." Came the merchant's voice, booming and oddly resonant over all the chaos. "REVOLUTION!" He finished with a final warcry, heaving the cart over his head, slamming it down onto the monster with exhilarating force. No wonder he wanted that to be as heavy as possible. It came crushing down through the monster, the sound of wood breaking as the girl in the vines let loose some hideous scream.
The priest hopped out of the cart, and whilst mid-air, clapped his hands together in prayer. Mumbling a few sacred words, his body began to glow a slight white, and he opened his palms towards the now hurt creature. "Holy Light!" He shouted, before a blazing white crucifix shot forth from his hands, and began to burn into the creature. That scream pierced the air even more, and the thorns started to slip off the girl, her vague body only seen for a slight second, before she just disintegrated into nothingness.
The sight that Gerik had just seen was no less than amazing, at least to him. This wasn't like before. There was hope. It wasn't a one sided fight, terrorizing the defenceless. That's when he remembered the sword on his belt. He stood up, and stepped out of the protective aura, much to the priest's dismay, and the merchant's anger.
"Please." He mumbled, cutting off their protests. "I want to help."
"Listen, kid, it's great and all that you wanna help but seriously, you're just gonna get in the way." The merchant mumbled, and the priest just nodded. "I doubt you've even been trained with that thing. A kid like you shouldn't be waving weapons around like you're an adventurer. Cause you're not. It takes hard work, time, and effort to be an adventurer. Because they're fighters."
"He's right." The priest said, though his tone was far softer. "We're just looking out for you, okay? We can't look out for you if we're fighting, and we can't fight if we're babysitting you. Please, just stay inside my Basilica, and we'll get this done. I promise we'll take you on an adventure in our Party some time, okay?" The merchant didn't seem to pleased with the last comment, but it seemed like the kid was buying it.
"I'll even personally craft you any kind of weapon you want, for when you do come." The merchant added. A smith? "please, just stay inside the bloody barrier, and let us do our job." Disgruntled, Gerik turned around and stepped back inside the safe barriers the priest had set.
It didn't take long for other battle-hardened adventurers to come in and help clear the city, the strangely clad group having left as soon as more help had arrived. Few people had been hurt, who had been brought to the church, or the Basilica for healing and safety. Gerik sat in the very middle, clinging his sword to his chest, as if he had been clinging to his very last strand of life.
What the hell had he been thinking? The two were right, he wasn't about to go in and become an amazing swordsman. He knew very little about fighting as it was. What little he knew was whatever he could overhear from the priests teaching the Acolytes, but even then if an Acolyte was set on fighting, they were soon sent to St. Capitolina Abbey to learn under the monks.
A shadow loomed over him, forcing him to look up, seeing the Priest smiling down at him. "Why do you look so glum?" He asked, before he took a seat beside the young one. Gerik just let out a sigh, and the Priest put an arm around his shoulders, pointing to the sky. "We're going to go on an adventure. See the world a little, you know? Come on, let's go get you some armor and some supplies. It'll be fun." He said, before he stood up. Gerik blinked. He was... excited?
He stood up, still clutching his sword, when the Blacksmith came by, and swiped it from his hands. "You know," He started, unsheathing the blade and looking it over. "I have nothing against mass-produced weapons, but I've always loved my own over something made. Has a better feel to it. What kind of weapons you like kid, swords?" He asked. Gerik stared at him awestruck.
"U-Uhm... I guess?" He managed to say, before that made the smith snarl.
"Don't guess. Tell me what you know how to use. We're going to adventure with you. That means we put our lives in your hands, we're trusting you with them. We don't want you to be incompetent with anything. You're doing the same with us. That's what a party is. You trust the others to do their job rightly, and properly. So tell me kid, what are you good with?" Gerik blinked at the smith's words. Though harsh, they rang true and sounded like words of wisdom, rather than a berating or a scolding.
"I've... handled a couple maces before in the church but--" He started, before the Blacksmith smiled, tightening his grip on the blade that he had just bought.
"Good. I'll sell this back to the shop for a pretty penny, use that to buy materials, and get started on your order." A mischevious, almost lewd smile crossed the elder's features. "You know where to meet me." He added, looking up at the Priest, who just nodded back. As quickly as he had came, the smith heaved his cart onto its wheels, and started walking away.
"He's right, you know." The priest said, ushering Gerik out of the Basilica, and into the now safe streets. "That's what a party is. Every member brings something of their own to the table. And it's all of that combined that makes the party strong. If you can't do your job right, you'll only hurt everyone else." Gerik nodded, and the Priest beamed. "You know, I met him a long time ago, back when I was an Acolyte. And I was much like you. I wanted to help so desperately, but I didn't know how. I wasn't good at fighting, good at taking hits, good at dealing damage with various elemental spells; but I just knew I wanted to help. I soon found out that the spirit was all I needed. He could do the killing, and I had to support him. I found that's where I wanted to be. Supporting others was what I was good at. We parted ways soon after the first time, but we eventually found our way back together time and time again."
"Support..." Gerik mumbled, not even realizing they'd entered the shop once more, and that the Priest had gathered some simple armors in his hand. They were at the register, and the man of the robes had paid for everything, then held them out with a hand to Gerik. "I--"
"Trust me. You'll do your share on the adventure, I know it. The only thing I ask is that you do this one day for another adventurer you see, just getting on their feet. That's what I vowed to my husband when we got married. We were going to help who we could. He's just a little... rougher along the edges."
Gerik took the armor, before he stopped and stared. They were back outside, but his gaze fell on the Priest. "A man of the clergy... marrying another man? I thought--" He started. No, he didn't think. He knew. He'd lived in the Church for so long that-- his thoughts were cut off, as the Priest flashed a ring on his hand, with a giggle.
"Times, and people change. Things aren't always seen eye to eye. But the world keeps on turning, no matter what you believe. That's the truth of it. If people aren't bothered by us, we help them. If they are, then they can get help elsewhere, you know? There's no point in wasting time with people who'll just reject us." The priest said, before he stopped. "So? Are you going to come, or not? I won't ask for that armor back, or money for it-- and my husband will still make you the weapon. Whether or not you come is up to you."
Gerik bit his bottom lip. The priest was right-- why should he see the two as any different? When it came down to it, they were just two kind souls wanting to help others. Anything else meant very little to that fact. "So where are we going first?" He asked, with a wide grin.
I'm taking that you like it, mya?
Author's Note: I also want to note that I want any and all forms of constructive criticism, as I'm trying to constantly improve my writing capabilities. I know I haven't viewed this 32 times by myself, so I know people are looking. D: Please? Criticism keeps me warm at night.
---
They hadn't gone anywhere too extravagant for their first time, just a small ways due south of Prontera. They ventured into the desert, much to Gerik's dislike of the arid, broiling heat, but the other two seemed to walk through as if it were just a nice summer day in the park. The trek was short, albeit uncomfortable, and they soon headed eastwards into the desert, arriving at a tropical island.
"Few people seem to know about this place." The Priest explained, as Gerik was simply thankful to have not felt like he was melting within his clothes. He could understand the smith being comfortable in the heat-- working in front of a blacksmith's furnace was most likely hot to begin with; it didn't make sense to him, however, how the priest had walked through casually, dressed fully in his robes.
"What is this place?" Gerik asked, walking out further. The ground was still covered in a light layer of sand, but the sky was much more forgiving, and the winds that flew by weren't dry, heated ones. He looked around as various different Porings hopped around and mingled with each other, some even seeming to follow the commands of others.
"Poring Island." The Blacksmith said, carrying something wrapped over his shoulder. He'd carried it the whole journey not letting Gerik know what it was. "You'll find out when you need to." He'd been told, and he figured there was no use in fighting witht he man. "Home to every and all kinds of Poring. From Poring to Poporing, Marins and Drops, even the rarer Ghostrings, Master Drops, and Masterings, they're all here somewhere."
"And in great abundance." The Priest added. "Adventurers can come here, and they don't have to worry about hunting the Porings into extinction. Don't ask me how, but you can kill a few, turn your back, turn around again, and there's replacements already."
Gerik just nodded-- this sounded like a decent place to train. He look around again, when the smith heaved the wrapped item on his shoulder off, and set it on the ground near Gerik. No words were spoken, the elder just nodded his head and Gerik nearly tore through the wrappings like it was a gift on his birthday or something.
He first saw a delicately crafted handle, fine and smooth, yet somehow tough and weighty. He took a grip on it and found that his hand didn't slide around, despite the smoothness. He heaved the weapon up, finding that the opposite end was far lighter than he'd thought. The mace was lifted easily from the wrappings, and he stared at it. It looked far more beautiful than anything he could buy in one of the stores, and closer inspection showed that there was an engraving just underneath the blunt bashing head.
"How's it feel? Better than that Blade, yeah?" The smith asked. Gerik just nodded. While the Blade had felt good in his hands, this Mace felt... felt right. He gave it a few practice swings, amazed at how well balanced it was. The weight at the end was enough that the force in each swing seemed to be multiplied, but it wasn't so heavy that he couldn't stop his swings, or that it threw out his arm when it did so.
He blinked as he swung again, his arm moving faster than he could see, this time. After that, there was a faint blue glow around him, two little angels about his head dropping some sort of dust on him. He felt invigorated, his senses sharpened, and he suddenly became aware of all that was happening around him. He knew what this was. He looked at the priest, who just smiled.
"We'll be right behind you, don't worry. And try not to take on Marins, or any of the leader Poring yet. We'll handle those if things get too hairy." The Priest said, just stepping in behind Gerik. The smith grinned, and just heaved up his cart again, waiting for him to go. It was like for the moment being, he was being given pseudo-leadership of the group.
He turned around, and eyed the various Porings again. A mischevious grin turned up his mouth, and he strode forward, feeling more confident than he ever had been.
---
"Above you, look out!" The smith cried, and Gerik barely stepped back in time, the Master Drops landing down in front of him with a thunderous crash. How was he supposed to know that Drops had been let behind? He'd started fighting it, only to have an angry Master Drops come out from the bushes nearby, and begin attacking. Damn this jungle, it was probably dense to hide all these blasted Poring!
"Increase Agility!" The Priest chanted, and Gerik kicked off quickly to the left, whizzing by as the Master Drops surged forward into where he'd just been standing. He'd been acting on pure instinct for this whole fight, fear having dissipated quickly. At first he'd been too afraid to move, and the smith had shoved him aside from the first strike. That had knocked him into his senses-- they trusted him to do his job, and being stuck frozen meant he wasn't doing it.
"Raaagh!" Gerik cried, lashing out at the Master Drops with his mace, but a smaller Drops had jumped in the way, exploding upon impact, taking the blow for it's leader. He was heaving breaths now, and even with the Priest's support, his body was getting tired. He dashed backwards as the Masterdrops surged forward yet again, stumbling back.
"He's not strong enough." The Priest said, not in a condescending way, but factually. Gerik brought himself to his feet beside the holy man, and just whined slightly. "Don't worry. You will be someday. Just not at the moment."
The smith adjusted his beret, and pulled a large axe from his pushcart. It seemed to have a faint blue hue, as if it were water or ice elemental, and he chuckled. He dashed forward faster than Gerik could even hope to achieve with the Priest's boosting, and raised his axe high above his head. "MAMMONITE!" He shotued, bringing the axe down forcefully on the Masterdrops. Many of the Drops jumped up and into the way to block the hit, but the Blacksmith didn't cease. An image of a man appeared above his head, wielding a great sack of zeny in his hands. For a moment, axe and bag of money were one, and it came crashing down upon the orange blobs, money exploding everywhere, along with the orange jelly.
The axe continued past that, cleaving into the Masterdrops, another great explosion of money flying out. There was an even greater wave of orange as the Masterdrops too, exploded, and any remaining Drops left seemed to just melt into a puddle on the ground. The smith stood, barely having even broken a sweat, returning his axe to his cart.
"Let's call it a day, hm?" The smith asked. "The kid looks tired, and we've come a long way. Besides, he'll have to start thinking about what he's going to do after novice life. We can't rush him around." The priest just nodded, and rummaged around inside his robes, pulling out a small blue gemstone. It glowed much like before when he had been creating the Basilica, and a pillar of blue light appeared on the ground, small waves of blue light coming out from the pillar.
The smith stepped in without a word disappearing in a flash. The priest smiled, and urged him on. "You did very well today. You have much to learn, that's for sure, but you've the making of a fine adventurer. I have no doubt you'll find where you belong easily." He said. Gerik blinked, not really fully understanding those words, stepping in himself.
His body felt separated from his mind for a split second. It was like he had been torn apart, but without the pain. He felt ethereal for a moment, gliding on unseen winds as the world rushed past his eyes. And suddenly, the picture focused, leaving him standing in front of the Prontera Fountain, the Kafra girl just smiling, and welcoming him back. His stomach lurched for a second, getting used to the quick travel, and he went slightly green.
"Aha, new to teleporting? You'll get used to it." She said, with a smile, bowing at him. "Have a nice day!"
Stumbling on his feet, Gerik made his way down the street, heading back for the church. Tomorrow, huh? They hadn't even agreed on a place to meet! How was he even supposed to know where to go?
Excellent story and with good form.
@ Galt: Thanks! Glad you enjoy it so far.
---
Tapping his foot, the young brunette yawned, already dressed in the adventuring gear he'd been bought, his mace securely on his back (he'd been trying to find a comfortable place to put it so when he walked, he wouldn't keep hitting it. Horizontally across his back, just along his waist seemed to work). He was still miffed at how they hadn't made plans to meet today, or where-- so he decided that heading to the fountain would be the best idea.
The Kafra girl yawned as well, having just relieved the last of her shift, and he smiled. He had to work just as hard as they did, to show that he could be of use adventuring. Still, he began to be a little worried. What if the pair didn't show up today? Would he be able to go with another party? If he did, but they showed up late, would they be mad?
He heard the familiar sound of wooden wheels turning along the Prontera road, looking over hastily. It wasn't his party from before, though it was another pair, another similarly dressed Blacksmith toting along a cart. He walked around with a boyish grin, half-naked with the usual Blacksmith's white shirt slung over his shoulder, revealing a well-built and shaped torso. He also wore the trademark light purple pants, sporting brown boots and gloves. He had a mop of light blonde hair, that seemed to be caught in a perpetual breeze from behind, and a broad, chiseled face. He set the cart down, and while bent over, Gerik could see the other of the "pair"
Sitting on the cart was a... mage? He still wasn't too good with recognizing different classes' usual garbs, and this one wasn't making it any easier. Adorned on his face was a simple, circular mask, with an eerie smiling face, and he had on his head, a large, perky sunflower. The mask covered every angle of the mage's face, and from no matter where you looked at it from, you were greeted with that never-changing smile. The sunflower on his head even seemed to turn to where he looked, and Gerik could picture the sunflower wearing a miniature of the mask as well. He was dressed in a grass-green robe, and even his hair was of the same colour as the sunflower's leaves-- giving him the impression that he was almost a moving flower in his entirety.
"Hey! You lost or something, Novie?" The Blacksmith asked. The mage looked over, and Gerik felt a chill run up his spine as he was smiled at. Dear god, what kind of horror was hidden beneath that? "You wanna join our party? This one here is bringing me to Ant Hell, and the more the merrier I always say on a good morning of hunting." His voice was a clear, bold baritone, and Gerik just shook his head.
"I've... already got a party. I'm just waiting. Sorry." Gerik replied, waving a hand. The Blacksmith clapped his gloved hands together, making him jump slightly. The blonde turned his head over to the green-haired one, and just nodded.
"Do you mind taking him along, then?" He asked. There was a whimper from behind the mask, and the Blacksmith turned again, as if worried the mage had been hurt. "No no, hon it's not like that, you know that! I was going along because you wanted me to but-- well, you know I have stuff to do! I'm a busy smith right?"
"I... don't think the others will mind." Gerik mumbled, though he raised a curious brow at the two. ?Man... is he ever whipped.? He thought, before he mentally chastised himself for the horrid thought. "We don't have much in the way of magical force anyway, he'd be a welcome addition."
The Blacksmith stared over his shoulder with a grin, and a slight look of desperation. "See? You'll get better experience with them anyway, you know I just make it not fun for you. I promise I'll make it up to you, I just have orders to complete." He sounded like he was pleading with the flower... mage... person, who just stared with that smiling mask at him.
"... But..." The mage whined. He sounded young, but still older than Gerik at least. A new mage, perhaps? "... I don't want to come back to your forge, and have to peel off girls from you again, okay?" The Blacksmith's blonde head just nodded, and he carefully lifted the mage off the cart, and set him on the ground.
"... Er... what're your names?" Gerik asked, after a second of awkward silence. The Blacksmith though, apparently hadn't heard him, and just lifted up the mask's side slightly, bringing his face in close to the mage's. Whispering? either way, the mask was suddenly pulled back closed by the mage's gloved hand. Was that a hint of a blush?
"You can just call me D." The Blacksmith said, before he hoisted up his cart. He ruffled the mage's hair, much to the magic-caster's dismay at having to right his sunflower again, and walked off. Gerik blinked, staring back at the unblinking smile.
"Bascht. Most people call me B." The mage said, before he just stepped closer. Gerik shivered again, though he stretched out a hand, which was quickly taken, and shook. "It's nice to meet you er..."
"Gerik. It's Ger--" He started, before his name was called from afar. He stared down the centre street, watching as the other smith and the Priest walked up to them. Was the latter of them limping a little? He seemed a little unsteady on his feet. "Ah, and here's my Party. Are you alright?"
"Hey! Sorry we're late. And yes yes... I'm just fine." The priest said, and the smith scratched at the back of his head. "A new member to the party?" The Priest asked, quick at changing the subject. Gerik nodded, and turned to the mage. "Glad to have you aboard! Gerik's needed a bit of help and we don't like to interfere unless absolutely necessary. He'll do great with some magical support, don't you think so?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I had been thinking." Gerik replied, with a smile-- having forgotten completely about the Priest. He was standing just fine anyway, probably just tired or something. "He wanted to go to Ant Hell. Is that okay with you two? I didn't think you had something planned anyway." The flower-mage looked over, making even the smith lose composure and take a slight step back at the smiling mask.
"Y-Yeah. That's fine with me." He said. "With his magical support, you should be able to handle it. Though after today, I think you'll be in prime shape to be able to advance to your first real Class. Have you thought about it at all? I know it seems like a rush as it's been all of what, two days adventuring, but still, you don't want to be adventuring and gaining noth--"
"Actually, yes, I have. And I even made my decision last night." Gerik interjected. That caused all three of them to look at him. There was a silence as they waited for an answer, but the brunette wasn't intent on giving it just yet, it seemed. "I'll tell you later-- but for now, off to Ant Hell, hm?"
---
(So yes, Bascht is another character of mine that I play. The plan is to get all of them into a party together and go with that. n.n )
"Frost Diver!" Came the strangled voice from behind the mask, echoing eerily through the caverns of Ant Hell. Ice ran through the ground like a wave, before it encapsulated an Ant Egg, and then everything exploded in a dazzling rain of glittering ice, leaving nothing behind but a puddle of ooze where the egg had been, a shell from the unformed ant, and a bottle. The flower-mage strode over and picked up the bottle, turning around to see an annoyed Gerik tapping his foot.
"Seriously? We came down here so you could break open eggs for bottles?" Gerik asked, and the mage just shrugged. "Come on, Bascht, there's got to be something else in Ant Hell that entices you other than easy prey! I mean, hooray for the experience and all but don't you feel bad for this? It's like... farming all the ants' hard work. That, and the queen probably wouldn't like it."
"I just wanted some bottles..." Bascht replied, sounding kind of sad. Gerik sighed a little, and clapped a palm to his face, before a second clapping was heard from behind. The Priest was clapping white-gloved hands together, chuckling to himself.
"Did you know about Ant Hell, why it's called that? Your little quip about the queen reminded me." The Priest said. He waved a hand at the mage for him to keep going, since he didn't seem much too interested in it. The holy man moved closer to the Novice, speaking above the dim echoes of "Frost Diver!" in the background.
"Long ago, they say that this place was entered by a group of adventurers, much like ourselves. At that time, it was called the Ant Hill, not Ant Hell. The entrance was this large, foreboding cave dug into the sand, not the crater we see today. The party consisted of... hm, a Merchant, a Mage, a Swordsman, an Acolyte, an Assassin, and a Hunter, if I remember correctly."
"You notice how the ants don't attack us, right? That's because they're a new breed, many of them are born every day. It's just not in their nature to attack travelers. You stay out of their way, and they won't mind you at all. However, the Queen of the Ants, Maya, hates all adventurers with a passion. If she sees you in here, you're as good as done, for she will attack with her elite guard."
Gerik blinked for a moment. "Wh-why?" He asked, though he sort of already knew the answer. He just hoped that they wouldn't stumble across her-- though if their mage was going to be camping these eggs all day just for bottles, then they probably wouldn't get the chance.
"They say that they went in, and destroyed a very special egg. The one containing the next queen, that is only laid once in a blue moon. I don't know the real length of time, but it's about as rare as being able to dig up gold." The Blacksmith interjected. "Ever since then, she's wanted revenge against all humans. None can enter in her sight, else she instantly goes into a mad, protective rage. These little ones don't attack us because they just live too far from her. Most work, live, and die, never meeting their Queen. So they haven't changed from the ants of old. But if you're near her, watch out. They might turn on you."
Gerik blinked. "Though, there's always danger to a good adventure, right? Besides, you're in good hands. Even if we did somehow stumble upon Maya in this maze, we wouldn't let her hurt you. You know that. You have to trust your group." The Priest said, with a warm smile. Gerik nodded. "Though... we've only seen a small part of the maze."
The three of them looked at the moving flower, who bent over and picked up another bottle. "You know," Gerik started. "If you really want bottles that bad, I've got well over a hundred stored with the Kafra. Why do you need them anyway?"
"For my Pillow." The mage started. That earned him a few stares, and he just rummaged around inside of his cloak, before pulling out a pure white egg, about the size of his arm, really. "My pet Lunatic, Pillow. I need the bottles so I can store carrot juice-- they're the only thing he eats. I ran out of bottles, and I'm running low on juice-- so when I get enough, I'll release him via a Pet Incubator, and let him follow me around. He's... really cute."
The blacksmith just laughed, and rummaged around in his cart. "This stuff, right? I've got tons of it-- you can have it all. I've been needing to get rid of it. So come on, we'll get you an Incubator, and pass over bottles and juice after. We're here for adventure!"
Gerik pumped a fist into the air, earning him a small giggle form the priest. The mage simply stepped behind him almost loyally, though whether he was more loyal to the group or to his lunatic didn't really seemed to make much of a different. "Well then," Bascht started, adjusting the mask a little. "Shall we?"
---
"Kyrie Eleison!" The Priest chanted, as a transparent barrier instantly formed around the Novice, absorbing a headbutt from an incoming, flying Vitata. The bug bounced and rolled off to the side, the Novice giving the clergyman a thumbs up over his shoulder.
"Just a little more time!" Bascht shouted, and Gerik nodded. He darted straight at the Vitata, who easily outmatched him in speed and strength. But he wasn't intending to beat the ant all on his- own-- that would take ages. No, he was just being a good distraction for the bug, whilst the mage charged up a powerful spell. Gerik brought his mace down, hitting the ground again as the Vitata deftly hopped to the side. It reared back for another leaping headbutt, before the Novice felt heat whizz over his bent shoulder. "Fire Bolt!" The mage chanted, sending ten bolts of pure flame straight at the airborne ant, who was unable to dodge so deftly in the air.
Each bolt hit with a sizzling explosion, sending the ant flying off slightly, rolling along on the ground. It's legs twitched sort of comically before curling up, the ant soon dissipating into sand. "Phew, that was a close one!" Gerik said, before he stood straight. "Good job, though! Nice timing!"
The mage gave him a thumbs up signal back. "Yes, excellent work. You two are already working together, on your very first adventure. Great synergy between you two." The Blacksmith said as he stepped up to the two. Gerik beamed, and placed his hands on his hips. "Yeah... you seem ready enough. Shall we head back? it's about time you chose your first "class", and I've still got to get most of my juices from the Kafra girl for B. Besides, didn't you say you had someone waiting for you?" The smith asked the Mage.
The forever smiling face just nodded, before a deafening screech echoed through the halls. The smile behind that mask faded, as everyone seemed to blanch in fear at the curdling scream. "Wh-what..." Bascht started, staring into the distance into the caverns. "What was that?" He dreaded the noise, and instantly pressed into the smith.
"... Maya."
OOC Note: Also, cookies for whoever gets my reference of Ant Hell's history.