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James' illusion continued to impress. Zell had seen the Cleric put the shawl on, then only glanced away before looking back to see it had disappeared beneath the magical veil of Sillagy's blessing. Zell looked at the tailor, who surely must've seen the shawl disappear and who also carried on as if everything were normal. It was another reminder of how crazy this world was. Nothing to see here, folks, just a FUCKING GODDESS' BLESSING! Zell chuckled at the thought.

"I think it would be useful but won't it be bad if someone were to grab you by it in a fight?" James mimicked the motion and Zell grimaced. "Like, imagine you were doing some of your swordsmanship stuff and someone just yanked you by it"

"Stop ruining my fantasies with your logic, brainiac," Zell folded his arms defiantly. "And anyway, I'd be too fast. Did you see my footwork in that last battle? Bloody sublime, if I do say so myself."

"I guess you could teleport but does it work if someone is grabbing you? It would be funny if you were teleported but your clothes didn't"

Zell laughed at the imagery. Surely that wouldn't be the case, but hell; it would be hilarious if it happened. Then Zell realised something: He could actually bring the teleport ability to the forefront of his mind. Using Adam's advice - now that he knew how to 'apply magical energy to his will' - he could actually analyse the spell in it's totality. He stood by his friend, distracted for a few moments as his mind wandered and he figured out that he could teleport three times per day, a distance of fifteen feet or less. But the power only worked for himself and his possessions, so he couldn't use the power to move with an ally. And he was safe from sudden nudity.

The swordsman gave a thumbs up to the shopkeeper in sync with James' thanks, then led out onto the street and looked both ways to reorient himself northbound, his snail pace returning to normal walking speed once James fell into step beside him and continued on from the previous topic of conversation.

"Also, I can't see myself using armor as heavy as yours or Kass' you guys are fucking tall in comparison"

Kass. I like that. "Hey, if you've a strong enough back to carry that anchor around, you'd have no problem wearing decent armour." Truth be told, James was a lot stronger than he looked. He'd been lugging Arthur's old weapon around since the older man had gotten himself killed saving all of their lives. It was a touching tribute and Zell respected James' decision, but he was still surprised that his friend could handle such a weight with seemingly little trouble.

"Speaking of equipment, you planning to use that sword?"

"Huh?" The black sword appeared in his mind. "Oh," he realised. "Err, yeah... why not? It's bloody powerful, you know. I was going to give it to Joji, seeing as he is familiar with katanas, but I've not seen that man since we registered the party. I'm not sure where he went or if he'll be back in time for tomorrow, so I'll be using the sword. For the next mission, at the very least. I can't turn down that kind of power. Not after having to watch Clive and Arthur be killed. I'll die twice before I have to go through that again, and I don't plan on dying again anytime soon, so acquiring more power is the only option."

Take Vor, Baphomet.

"Whatever the risks," Zell added ominously.

"Just curious if you know how to use it as well as your other one, God knows I have no fucking idea how to use this thing" Zell grinned at both ideas - the questioning of his skills with anything that even resembled a sword was laughable, and the thought of their resident healer charging into the front line swinging the anchor like an olympian was also comedy gold. "I, well I don't think I have quite the strength necessary to toss it at enemies the same way... Anyway, any suggestions? Oh resident master swordmaster?"

"Resident sword master..." Zell rubbed his chin. "I quite like the sound of that title. I was thinking, 'Valhiem's heart-throb' but 'Resident sword master' is a little more professional." They crossed over the river, leaving the Bazaar area and moving into the warehouse district. "But anyway; if I was you, hmmmmm... I would take it to Gildor Hammerfist - the best blacksmith in Valhiem - and have the anchor refashioned into a Lucerne Hammer. It's a much lighter, one-handed weapon that looks like a pickaxe, except you could choose between blunt-force or stabbing depending on which side you swing. It would require less training and experience to get used to. You would keep one hand free to do your magic also. Using the metal of the anchor and keeping the T-shape would be tribute to Arthur."

...

Zell and James conversed through several topics and in their focus, they'd managed to make a wrong turn somewhere and gotten totally lost.
Both had forgotten to bring a map, so after trying and failing to find their way back to a street they recognised, laughing at their own stupidity along the way, they ended up asking civilians and getting pointed in the right direction. A walk that might have taken an hour or so, ended up taking all afternoon. When they finally arrived at the Adventurer's Guild, Zell let out a breath.

"Made it!" he cheered. They went up to the bar took up stools, and Zell got the first round in, which consisted of two beers plus two shots of whiskey to warm them up. "Cheers boss."

They clinked glasses threw back the shots, then got started on their beers. Sat side-on (as was his habit) Zell could face James aswell as watch the room. There were about a dozen adventurers in the guildhouse, including a party upstairs where Lucy's desk was. The vibe was cool.

"So mate:" he started. "What are you going to miss most about your old life?"

He sipped his beer as he watched James, keen to hear his response, surprised that even so close, the illusion of MacKensie still looked so perfectly real.


"Ha! Why am I not surprised that you died a hero," Zell said with a grin. His respect for James rocketed up. "You're an inspiration, my mate. No joke." He nudged James with an elbow and nodded with approval to show he was serious. At this point he noticed just how uncomfortable his friend was feeling, talking about his death, and Zell realised that not everyone could (or wanted to) repress their emotions and be so nonchalant about serious topics like the Englishman. "And here I just got flattened by a bus. But anyway..."

"So what do you want to do at the Guild"

"We'll see where the night takes us," he strained as he stretched his arms up, then interlocked his fingers behind his head. "I imagine it won't be boring. Barrels of beer and bottles of liquor, plus a bunch of lads and ladies all with superpowers? Tons of potential for a memorable evening, don't ye think?"

When MacKensie took a rain check on their visit, Zell saluted her and Adam. "Alright guys, catch ye later." Then he turned to James. "Looks like it's just me and you then."

"Well, feel free to lead the way"

...

Zell had a little look at some of the clothes and gear on display in the tailor's shop while James got his shawl. When he went over to his friend, he folded his arms and leaned on the counter. "Eh, how about Barracker's armour: Pretty fucking cool, if you ask me. He looks like a right badass in it." The vampire certainly had the best-looking gear out of all them, taking Fenna's spot, who was previously 1st place. "I wouldn't mind getting a hood sewn onto my armour. I'll pass on the face mask though. A little claustrophobic for my tastes."

When James was done, the next stop was across the city to the Guildhouse.


Seeing the reactions of random strangers passing by Zell, James and MacKensie - specifically the latter two, who looked, sounded and were dressed the exact same - was funny. One old man spared them a glance before double-taking, frozen still as he stared at them going the other way down the street. Zell was laughing his ass off.

It had been an enjoyable day so far. An insightful one too. James' blessings were proving to be extremely wide-ranging in type and utility, making the swordsman wonder whether the adventurer profession involved more than just killing evil creatures. After all, what would someone need a one-man disguise for? Perhaps their visit to the Adventurer's Guild was little too brief. There were questions they hadn't had time to think of, let alone ask.

Arriving at the Mended Drum, Zell elected to forego kitchen duties and parked himself at a table in the taproom, putting his feet up and leaning back his chair onto two legs. "I'll just get in the way," was his excuse for not helping out.

"Cheers, love," he later thanked MacKensie when she brought him a cup of tea, then passed the time with some conversation with Adam who'd just arrived, until lunch was ready. He dug into the tacos and complimented Chef James' work. "Not bad, mate. You're full of surprises, aren't ye."

After Adam left the table, Zell turned his attention to James. "Mate," he started. "I'm thinking of paying a visit to the Adventurer's Guild this afternoon. Speak to Lucy a bit. Maybe have a few drinks at the bar there, meet some other adventurers, get a better feel what carrying this Source Crystal means. Find out more about that Source Code too. Wha'dya think? Wanna come along?" He shrugged. "If nothing else, it's a chill." He looked at MacKensie. "You're invited too, of course."

After he got his answer, he nodded satisfactorily. "So, when did you learn to cook?" he inquired, changing the subject. Something told the Englishman that the answer would tell him more about his friend. The food was a little too high-quality for the average guy of James' age. Or maybe things were different in Mexico than they were in England. Either way, he was interested. "Did you live alone before you... oh yeah; what happened for you to get here? I forgot to ask. Did you die too?"
@Loksfjoer I somehow missed that Fenna's breakfast had been served before Zell's. Cleaned the mistake up with an edit

#1amPosts


Zell groaned with fatigue as he sat down at the table, then nodded a hello at Fenna and Lillianna. "Alright Fenna. Lily-pad." In spite of the old-man 'sit-down groan,' which was simply a post-workout habit, he actually felt satisyingly good. Pumped - a little more himself. Before he could say much else to his two comrades, Frederick approached with a serving tray, drawing the Englishman's attention. "Right on time, my mate."

Three plates with two sandwiches on each, complete with all the accompanying spinach and salad stuff. "You have a good appetite in the morning," Fenna commented.

Zell grinned. "Most important meal n all that," he replied, wasting little time and picking up his first of six. "I see you've got the same as me. 'Crock...? errr... Croak mah-damn,' it's called." Zell's butchery of French pronounciation was borderline criminal. "Something like that. Bloody good grub."

Once the first bite happened, Zell moved to destroy everything in his path at a frightening pace. The sandwiches didn't stand a chance. He stopped only to periodically wash his food down with milk or tea.

When James turned up and asked if he could sit down, Zell replied after Fenna. "No, you can't. Find your own table." He managed to keep from showing the food in his mouth as he flashed a wide grin at James. James did the right thing and ignored him, choosing to speak to Fenna. Zell was pretty satisfied with his joke, and listened to the conversation as he continued to devour his food. Throwing in a "Nice," when Fenna told them that Sil the Falcon was named after her grandmother.

Fenna's expertise handling Sil was something that Zell had admired from the moment the falcon had turned up. To find out now that there was some kind of deeper connection between the Ranger and her bird was even more impressive. Zell imagined himself having some kind of animal friend. His imagination's first instinct was to conjure up a monkey...

A pet monkey who could pickpocket people at his command. Of all the possibilities and this was what came to Zell Brooks' mind.

Of course it did.

The conversation between James and Fenna, however, was far more mature than what was going on in Zell's mind, and their ideas and testimony were logical, interesting and well-reasoned. Fenna bringing her conclusions back to that Source-Comm message made Zell nod with certainty.

James glanced at the wizard and swordsman "What do you think guys? you both are smart"

Zell was taken aback by being called 'smart,' and performatively checked behind himself to make sure James wasn't talking to someone else. "Smart? You've got the wrong guy," he said with his mouth full. He swallowed everything in one big (and painful) gulp, then continued. "But I have a feeling you guys are spot-on the money with your guesswork. And it all comes back to that message at the Adventurer's Guild. We need to open it. It could have all the answers we need. Not long now. We go to this temple. We kill a few evil spirits. Job done. We get to the message." Zell took another massive bite. "Easy."

Perhaps flaunting his nonchalant attitude was overdoing it. He was actually focused and determined not to slip up on this mission. Losing another teammate was not something he would carelessly let happen again. But he was confident mostly because Lucy Bottrill, the Guildmaster, was confident that Second Chance was capable of completing the mission. So it was just a matter moving as a unit, embracing their power and abilities, and working as a team.

They could do this.

When MacKensie showed up, Zell shook his head. "You can find your own table too. No room, beat it."

...

When James dragged him and MacKensie to one side to speak privately, Zell shot a quizzical look at MacKensie, wondering if she knew what this about. Nevertheless, he followed his friends to speak with them.

"Hey dudes, look I am going to be frank, I need help with something and I want someone there to make sure I don't fuck it up too bad" A hand went to the back of his neck "I want to try a few things but I need a partner and I trust you guys"

"Sure," Zell said, maybe a little too tentatively, not because he was uncertain but because he was distracted by James who's scowl became more pronounced. It seemed the Cleric was struggling admitting he needed help.

"Ah right, if you need to practice anything I am also willing to help"

"To be honest, I need to get this teleport down pat. It could be loads-useful if I knew how to do it on command. So yeah."

"So what do you say?"

"Of course, bruv," Zell assured the man, almost offended that James lacked confidence in the Englishman's willingness to help a friend. "Anything you need." He looked at MacKensie for support, but his words were for James. "We've got your back."


From Little Bridge on the west side of the city all the way up to the Citadel Mountain gate was a snaking road that steadily climbed altitude as it went up the mountain. If one were to cut off-road and try to shorten the distance between, the slopes were much steeper. That was exactly what Zell was doing as he sprinted bridge-to-gate.

Quads burning. Don't stop! Calves burning. Let's go! Lungs burning. Come on!

They say the strength and speed of a swordsman's first step was often the difference in a duel between adversaries of similar competence. The tactical element of commanding initiative and dictating the pace of the fight could not be overlooked. Similarly, in field battle, the explosiveness of the line infantry's charge could also be the deciding factor - to push the enemy backward, or better yet, break completely through and force the opposing general into reactivity rather than proactivity.

Zell kept sprinting in spite of barely being able to feel his legs. A few nobles and dignitaries coming down the hill, quickly stepped aside to give this uncouth brute way, watching him with disgust as he flew past them, sweating, grunting and growling like an animal. Almost there. Almost there. He reached out with a hand as the gate neared, his speed slowing even though he was giving it all he had for the final thirty yards. Aaaaaaand he slapped the polished brick of the archway.

"Fuck," he wheezed breathlessly, hands going to his knees for standing-rest, before he stood up straight and walked to the grass at roadside and collapsed. "Woo!"

That was his fourth trip up the mountain this morning. He was going for five sets of sprints, but he doubted he had another one in him. After a short rest, he turned over and struggled through five sets of twenty push-ups and sit-ups before ending his training session with the fourth torturous journey back to the bridge. On all fours. Down hill. Hands and feet, no knees allowed. Such a journey would absolutely destroy the shoulder-muscles at the best of times. But the incline and gravity going down the slope made this a nightmare. "Here we go. Last bit, Zell."

He wished he was dead. Had this exercise not been a common fraternity competition to see who was on dishwasher duties for that week, Zell probably wouldn't have made it, but he was conditioned pretty well for this ridiculous task. When he finally made it to Little Bridge, he sat on the ground and used the towel around his neck to wipe the salty, stinging sweat from his eyes.

...

After giving a hearty 'Mornin' to anyone who was in the taproom, Zell was talking to Frederick at the bar.

"Frederick, my mate. That ham, egg and cheese toasted sandwich you made me yesterday... I'm gonna need six of them bad boys, if you don't mind." Frederick's nose twitched a couple of times, likely at the point that he picked up the scent of Zell across the bar, who was no-doubt humming. "The greens with each one, yep. A cup of tea and a glass of milk too." The Mended Drum's owner gave a nod, Zell saluting in return. "You're a star, boss."

He downed a tankard of water before going to get himself sorted for the day. The maid was kind enough to do his laundry while he showered, then he threw on the black pants and tee-shirt he'd just purchased on the way back home, and went downstairs with the purpose of obliterating those six meals... and maybe more.


It was a fairly warm night. In the dimly lit room, Zell was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, a hand behind his head, in nought but his boxers.

Barracker seemed to fit in well, he thought as he went over the evening. The vampire had stuck around for most of the night and had a good laugh with the gang. He was a decent guy. Easy to get along with. Zell imagined that the man's enemies would beg to differ. The Enlgishman couldn't wait to see that claymore in action.

Adam was in better spirits, was his assessment of the Druid. Hopefully the young man was on his way back to his usual self. Zell was glad they hadn't lost him completely. It wasn't everyday you see comrades getting killed. Second Chance had been through the mill twice already. And with war surrounding them, the adventurer profession thrust upon them, death was going to become a familiar sight.

Everyone else seemed to be doing alright, as far as he could tell. MacKensie shone with her characteristic brightness (and was looking absolutely stunning, like what in the actual fuck! As a matter of fact, all three of the party's female contingent were dressed to impress tonight. They'd been busy in the Bazaar, that was for sure.) Fenna was her usual quiet but approachable and friendly self. James was, as always, a mask of grim and mild annoyance. Lillianna's permanent air of hesitation, confusion and anxiety seemed unbreakable.

Second Chance appeared to be ready for action. Just one more day of lounging about, then they'd be back on the road into the unknown, fighting their way to answers. Zell was prepared to do whatever it took. Whatever this 'Source' was - whether it was an actual God, or magical energy, or whatever - it had to have some kind of intelligence, because it knew to make Marsel Brooks a frontliner: Simple, strong and sure. Head first into the chaos, no questions asked, no fear, no doubt.

What else could a man like him have become? He was born for this.

Re-born, I suppose, he corrected himself with a goofy grin.
@Jay009Good timing Jay! And when isn't that man on holiday smh kick him out Xenon xD


Calm your arse down, love. Ye boy's back

dicapriocheers.gif


Jeez, that face-mask is so bloody cool.

"A monster hunter, huh? Sweet," Zell commented, impressed. As they walked through the Bazaar, on their way to the Mended Drum, Zell gave glances around at the market stalls and gave the occasional nod or 'Hi' to a passer-by. "We could've done with your expertise in the Hillocks. Glad to have you aboard, pal." On the subject of this High Septum's appraisal of their party; "I definitely feel like someone or something brought us to this world. And whatever the reason - it's important." He gave a one-sided grin to the vampire. "Just a feeling though. I tend not to think too much."

As they neared the inn, Zell saw a familiar face. "Alright Will, my mate."

"Zell," Will greeted as he slowed to a halt in the street. Will was one of the group of friends that Zell was drinking with the previous night. "You drinking in The Drum tonight?"

"Core-blimey, you've got no quit in you," Zell laughed. "I dunno, I might have to give it a miss. I was a right state, this morning, you shoulda seen me."

"Haha, I didn't take you for a lightweight!" Will slapped the Englishman on the arm and laughed heartily. "Youth is wasted on the young."

"Give me a break, mate. I might come over to your table for one."

"Just one? That's how it always starts!"

Zell saluted as Will went off down the street, watched him for a moment, then turned to Barracker. "Christ, you can swap universes and the big drinkers are still all the bloody same. Ha!" He nodded pointedly down the street where they were heading. "Come on."

Outside the The Mended Drum, they came across James who was heading out the opposite way. "Hey James," he greeted, then pointed a thumb at Barracker. "Look who I bumped into whilst taking a walk in the park." The swordsman came to a stop next to James. "You off out? Cleric business or something?"


"Ha! You have got to be kidding me," was Zell's delayed reaction after freezing for a second. "What are the chances? Small world, ain't it."

So this was Barracker Kassel. A vampire with a strong handshake, the love of a good woman and a sword that could cut an elephant in half. Well, after being surprised, Zell found himself more than happy with James' recruitment skills.

“I have met with the leader, James."

"My best mate, that is. James is alright. Proper geezer."

"I did not know that I would have been meeting another companion until arriving at ‘The Mended Drum’. What brings you around these parts?”

Zell shrugged and looked around at the serene environment, about to answer that he was just taking in the city, but Barracker drew his gaze with another question, that would require a far more exact answer.

“Wait, James said he was not from this world. How is this even possible?”

"Well fuck - have I got a story to tell you, mate. Pack a lunch and buckle your seatbelt." And Zell proceeded to explain everything, right from the very beginning. He started by stamping his complete certainty on the matter, that they had indeed come from a completely different universe. That there was no such thing as magic in their world, except in works of fiction. That there were no other species except humans who talk, build tech or create civilisations, in their world. He explained that some of them had died in their previous life before waking up here, and told Barracker in great detail his memory of his last moments on earth (which actually felt good to get out and crack jokes about.) He told them about how they apparently crash-landed from Mytherian sky to land in Hommas, how they awoke from large stone coffins with Source crystals already embedded in their hands, and how no one including the town's commander (who was about to arrest them) had any explanation as to how, why or who was the reason for them being here. And from there he brought Barracker up to date on the party's exploits of the last few days.

It sounded even more ridiculous out loud than it did in his memories.

...

After the rather long tale of the party's first few days in Mytheria, Zell had suggested that they head on over to The Mended Drum together, so they were walking up the street when Zell was deciding whether or not let the vampire know that they should keep their little heart-to-heart just between themselves. He decided that such a request was not necessary - Barracker didn't seem the type to gossip - but also, he would've looked like a right melt. Instead, he spoke on a completely different matter.

"Hey Barracker," he started, tapping the man at his side with the back of his hand. "You know; vampires aren't real in my world. We just have them in stories and mov- err, theatre productions and stuff. They're usually pretty scary fuckers, drinking blood and kidnapping women. There's some pretty-boy teenage-girl's fantasy types. But there's one vampire that I bloody loved... his name was Blade." Zell suddenly got animated as he talked, his excitement clear as he regressed about 8-10 years in age, talking about one of his favourite movies of all time. It actually may have been less than a year since he'd last watched Blade 1 and 2. If memory served, he and the lads may have watched them both on a long and boring night when no one could be bothered to move from the dorm. "This dude was a total badass. Sunlight didn't affect him, he had a silver sword, a bandoleer of steaks and he hunted the bad vampires to protect humans. Wore shades, a bullet-proof vest and a trench coat, rode a motorbike. Kicked the shit outta everyone. Not to be messed with."

Zell laughed and sighed. "What. A. Film. If I could tell my mates I'm now fighting side by side with a badass vampire, they'd be jelly ay-eff, I swear. Ha!" After that, the englishman inquired about Barracker's recent past. "So, what have you been up to in your time as an adventurer? What did you do before this?"
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