[IC] THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

[Saiyan]

After his question, Zell and the woman who'd poured his drink locked eyes. Green versus blue - cold, bombadier blue eyes. Now that she'd pulled her mask down, Zell could see her properly. She was an older lady, maybe around Fenna's age, with a look about her that suggested cool confidence and control. Zell felt like his soul was pierced in the eternal silence that she left between them as he waited for her answer, but his own gaze was unwavering. Then she grinned and Zell decided instantly that he liked her.

"Because, Zell Brooks, like you I was given a... second chance." That threw him through a loop. Not the fact that she knew his name or his party - that much was a given for the leader of a crew like this, plus; it's not like Second Chance's name wasn't everywhere right now, not least because of his own rumour-spreading, storytelling and bar-room bragging. It was the implication of her words that hit him hardest.

She went on to tell her own story and more explicitly state that she was also from another world. Zell wanted to interject and call 'bullshit' but if she was lying then she deserved a damn Oscar for this performance. "...And then, Pete here gives me good info. Tells me about you, about your little group. Second Chance. Cute name. I like it."

..............Which one of us thought up that name, again? Zell thought. Deep in his mind, the image of a figure silouetted by shadow, struggled in their chains. And the shackles cracked audibly, threatening to buckle and break................

"Tells me that your infamous little band of heroes are actually like me, not from this world. That you are people who died and woke up in this, bizarre fairy tale of a world. Where undead roam the lands, wizards cast spells, and the very souls of people can be trapped in infinite time loops of despair and horror. What fun!"

"Fucking fun indeed," Zell agreed, ignoring her tone of sarcasm. "I'm having a right old time."

"But I wasn't having any," she finished, not quite feeling the same sentiment.

One of her crew objected, making Zell aware that this woman, whoever she was, had been through a lot to get to this point. There wasn't a question if he believed her or not. It was just crazy that there were more of them. Just how many folks had these Mytherians kidnapped from the universe next door!?

"...earlier today I finally got my first real piece of that puzzle." Alison sighed, thinking about the encounter. "I met that lovely French girl, Mackenzie..."

And there she was - that silouetted figured cloaked in shadow, in the back of Zell's mind... Baphomet growled in frustration as the darkness he'd worked so hard to put over her was banished and the shackles around her wrists shattered and splintered with the sound of broken glass. MacKensie Trydant. Outside of his mind and in the actual tavern with the crew of rogues, Zell's features softened at the sound of her name. MacKensie - the lion's share of the reason he could keep so grounded and sane in this insane world. He pictured her smile and laugh, the bittersweet mix of the euphoria of being around her and the guilt that he'd ever think of betraying his team.

He'd missed a little of what the rogue leader was saying but not too much and caught back onto the conversation quickly. "It seems Mackenzie's praise wasn't misplaced. She genuinely cares about all of you."

The Englishman nodded. "She has enough heart for the whole world, that girl."

"So unfortunately fur us lot, that damn blondie bewitched our boss ere with those cute laughs and honey words about yous and now we stuck in this town. Bastard you are, ya know that? Well meanin bastard, but yous a bastard right through." one of the crew said, throwing a friendly punch into Zell's shoulder.

Zell's trademark one-sided grin appeared. "You ain't wrong, mate. This hero-business doesn't come natural, I'll tell you that much."

Another of them gave a soft laugh and praised Zell's loyalty, reaffirming that the entire crew were very-much in the know of everything that was going on, including the stakes of it all, and actually testing him this whole time. Bloody spies, Zell thought not-unkindly. They're good, I'll give them that.

The leader nodded to them both before crossing her arms and staring back at Zell. "Well, there you have it buddy. Your answer. So the next question now has a much harder answer..."

"How do we save this ship from sinking?"

Zell let out a breath. "Christ, we're better off giving out swimming lessons," was his first comment. "Nah, fuck it, we stand tall and proud and fight to the last man. I've not had a chance to speak in-depth with Commander Thorn just yet, but I imagine his plan is to defend the walls, then fall back to choke-points in the streets , finally taking a small stand at Little Bridge, then retreating up the hill." He scratched the back of his head as he thought. He was getting a lot more used to all of the foriegn knowledge of melee combat and battle tactics that were growing in his head with every Ascension. "The walls of the city are trash for a defence, they've got nothing but a couple o' towers here n there, but the Citadel Mountain is pretty defensible. The enemy outnumber us 3 to 1, at least. And that's just the infantry. It gets worse when comparing cavalry and mages. And they have necromancers too, so we have to be even more careful about throwing away our forces on bad positions. If Commander Thorn is smart, we don't spend much time at each checkpoint. Hit n Run, and make our best stand on the mountain. Let the city burn."

On another subject. "I don't like this idea that the city officials think they can wait until the last minute to evacuate the city and bring the people up the mountain though. I know they're going for efficiency and conservation of rations for being trapped up top, but they're playing with fire. The civilians should'a been squeezed up there, like, yesterday."

Zell and the crew of rogues talked until the sun came up, eventually getting Alison's name and shaking her hand for a proper introduction. He found himself quite at home amongst Thieves Guild associates and was surprised that The Source didn't give him the Rogue Class instead of Fighter, but he guessed that it was to put his gym-bro background to good use. And it was like Olaf had said earlier; Zell was heavy and clumsy when it came to sneaking about, which was likely a huge set-back in the job role of a Rogue. Nevertheless, he liked the Alison's eclectic crew and got along with them swimmingly.

"Well, I better go get a few hours of sleep," Zell said, standing up. "I'll see you at lunchtime for 'our first meeting,'" he smiled at Alison. Of course, they would act like they'd never met, later today when MacKensie introduced Alison to the gang. "A pleasure working with you all. Always nice to be amongst professionals. See you around."

And with that, he left the Brass Monkey and made his way back to The Mended Drum, hoping that he could slip inside and get to bed without bumping into anyone and having to explain where he'd been all night.

[Dark Cloud]

* * *

Clive found himself in a bustling marketplace, vibrant with life and infused with a hint of magic. The air buzzed with anticipation, as townsfolk hurried about what with the building tension of impending conflict at their doors the southerner didn't doubt that people were in a hurry for one reason or another.

He made his way to a leatherworking shop in the big city, a quaint establishment with a sturdy wooden door and a sign that creaked gently in the breeze. The shop had a warm, inviting atmosphere, with shelves made from rough-hewn timber lined with various leather goods. The scent of cured leather filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of wood and the faint aroma of beeswax from the polished surfaces.

Inside, the shop was simply decorated, with leather tools hanging on the walls and a workbench cluttered with pieces of armor and supplies. The space was well-used, showing signs of hard work and craftsmanship, and an open window let in fresh air, carrying the sounds of the bustling market outside.

The southerner approached the counter, where a man stood looking about in his middle age, the man was Nimuer Farlorn a hardworking but also easygoing man with an infectious smile that he offered the Texan with a joint dangling from his lips "Huh, what can I do ya for sir?"

Clive's hands brushed against a leather chest piece, its texture felt warm and inviting, promising strength in the face of danger. The craftsmanship was evident, infused with enchantments that would enhance his agility in battle "I reckon I’ll take this here chest piece and them enchanted hand wraps,”

Clive declared, his voice carrying a familiar Southern drawl. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna skimp on protection when there’s a fight brewin’.” Nimuer, with a knowing grin nodded enthusiastically. “A wise choice, my friend! These will serve you well in battle, just ten gold for that."

The southerner chuckled, appreciating the merchant's spirit amidst the tension in the air, and dropped the gold coins on the table with a faint clatter securing himself his gear before bidding the man farewell.

* * *

The morning sun cast a warm glow, illuminating the determined faces of the men and women who had gathered to hone their skills for what was to come. Clive felt a sense of responsibility swell in his chest; these were not just soldiers, but normal folk like anyone else, each one counting on him to guide them.

“Alright, y’all!” clearing his throat he called out, voice ringing with authority “We got ourselves a fight ahead, and it’s time to get our heads in the game. Let’s make sure we’re ready to stand together when the time comes.” As he watched them respond, a mixture of excitement and anxiety filled the air. Clive remembered the days working the fields back in Texas. Back then, he’d lead a team to harvest crops, but now he was leading a group of fighters preparing for battle. The weight of their trust was heavy, yet it spurred him on.

[Jay009]

Once back at The Mended Drum, Barracker said hi to whoever was down on the ground floor and gave a nod to Federick. He spoke to MacKensie about the utmost urgency, to speak to Zell and his whereabouts while she was eating. He explained it was an important conversation, needed as soon as possible, just to comb through a few important details to the fighter. A few truths he needed to hear, but he explained, he would not impose the details on her and interrupt her good meal. She informed him that Zell was out and so he bid her a goodnight, he was mentally exhausted with his day at the library. His eyes were sore from the long reading session. MacKensie did say something that intrigued him, she wanted to introduce someone to Second Chance, he did not think much on who it could be. Too much thoughts about Zells problem with Baphomet stuck in his head.

Where are you Zell?

Barracker tried to sleep, his mind and body not given into sleep, his brain wired as if he had taken the ‘purple fungus’, a mushroom given to enhance the state duration of being awake and to fend off any residue of tiredness in the body. He needed the sleep, more to pass the time rather than to recuperate his exceptional vampiric endurance. Speaking of which, he would need a blood vial soon. But this could wait until just before the battle, he had thought, the cravings making itself known. He ended up getting one of the books he’d borrowed from the library and reading more from it.

--------------------------

The morning came and the Paladin went down for Federicks breakfast.

No Zell.

Then he went to the Military Centre, this was to speak to his second in command of the Bats, Sergeant Warren Burns. After a while, watching captains, sergeants and soldiers flowing in, the vampire got frustrated.

No Zell!

It was getting close to lunchtime and Barracker wanted to get his talk with Zell out of the way before meeting the new person, Alison, so he went back to the Mended Drum to go upstairs and bang on the fighter’s bedroom door.

“Zell! Open the door!” Barracker said loudly.

As soon as the door opened a little, he barged his way inside the room. “You fool, damn you. You lied to me, you lied to your so-called friends and you are defiantly lying to yourself.” The vampire could hear his own heart and breathing. The built up tension in his body finally spilling out. His stare was ice, “There is no person who can control the deadly whispers of the Oblivion Prince of Might, ‘I can make you strong’. ‘Your friends are holding you back.’ Sound familiar?…” He shoved the book into Zell’s chest roughly. “...Baphomet!”.