Saiyan

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

When James was giving his feelings on his own predicament; the mess of conflict in his mind being present but not trumping his adoration of the group - Zell felt confident that the cleric was being honest and so he gave a satisfactory nod.

"But nevermind that, my issues are mostly handled, yours are not"

"True," Zell replied. "So long as you know that I'm here if you need anything. But with that out of the way... yeah... I'm completely fucked, ell-oh-ell."

Zell couldn't help but snicker. His only course for feeling better about the situation was to make light of it all.

"That sword is an insidious thing and as you have volunteered to carry the curse even throwing it away will just have it find its way back towards you"

"Jeez," Zell remarked. "Seems as though I've found meself in the middle of a horror movie." He shook his head regretfully. If only he'd known what he was getting into. "Fuck."

"It will always feel like you are in control, it won't change your personality, instead, it will exaggerate your bad traits, the worst part is that in the unlikely event that you notice it happening that 'you' will likely decide they are the better version of 'yourself', even if everyone else tells you the contrary"

"Yeah, that makes sense." When James got up, Zell delayed in mirroring him, staring into the water thoughtfully. "I can feel Him searching around my mind. Probing for weaknesses. Prodding soft spots for a reaction. I can stave Him for off for now, He's not exactly subtle. But I can see a future where this constant attack eventually takes it's toll - breaks me down... maybe."

"However!" Zell was taken aback by the sudden change in volume, his brow furrowing and a smile spreading across his face. Bruh. Zell looked around to make sure no one was around, then looked back up to his crazy-ass friend who was reeling off a solution packaged in what sounded like he'd morphed into some fundamentalist christian preacher or something. It was entertaining, in all honesty - Zell stretched his legs out and leaned back onto a hand in the grass, itching the back of his head nervously, but overall enjoying the show. And, of course, listening to the important part; the words that were contained within James' delivery. "Give me 3 days and I will have the ritual ready but Zell, for it to work the affected must be willing to face separation, unless you truly desire getting rid of it it won't work, so what do you say Zell Brooks? Are you willing to be healed?"

"Alright, enough you barmy twat," Zell couldn't take anymore and was laughing loudly. He affected the voice a stereo-typical member of a preacher's flock, his effort to do a southern-state American accent was awful. "Yays, oh ministaw James, shed yo light on me, oh great one. Heal meh."

He got up to his feet to meet James at something closer to eye level, a grin on his face. "Three days, huh? Alright then. I can wait until then, no problem." He yawned and stretched, accompanied by his usual ridiculously loud strain. "Oh, what a weight off my shoulders. Thanks bro. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Honest."

With everything settled, Zell suggested going for a quick beer at The Thieves Guild. "Just fucking one or two, this time. I'm not up for going on another binge-crawl that leads to jail."

It was a wonderful release of tension to get all these problems into the open. To know that James hadn't broken his own brain by what he did to Zigmund. And having gotten his worries about Baphomet off his chest, not to mention get a possible solution from his friend. And it was fucking lovely to have an ice-cold beer in the rowdy atmosphere of the Thieves' Guild.

Zell and James bumped into Devon, the face-tatted jack of all criminal trades. The Englishman got a round of drinks in for the lads and Devon gave news about how Valhiem's underworld was responding to the siege. Zell kept the Citadel business out of conversation but did end up loudly drawing in a small crowd as he told the tale of Second Chance clashing with 'The Witch Queen's most infamous assassin,' Zigmund the Metal Ninja. The embellishment of Zigmund's standing within the enemy ranks was probably the only thing that was questionable in Zell's telling of the story - there was no need to exagerrate anything else about the battle, it was fantastical enough. And once the swordsman backtracked to tie the whole thing in with the awesome clash with Aurok the Maneater (a tale that had spread around Valhiem and been confirmed by other sources) the crowd of locals, thugs and ne'er-do-wells were fully invested, firing comments throughout. Zell ended up stood on a chair, handling the crowd's heckling with witty comembacks and jokes, and also dragged James into the show as much as the Mexicano would allow.

One or two drinks turned into a few more, but fortunately both James and Zell were cognizant of not getting too wasted, so they knew to pace themselves and also when to stop. It was a fun evening. Much-needed after the last couple of stressful days.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Posted!, chunkier than I used to but worth it

@Teyao

rushed one out before the weekend for ye. jump in DMs if you need more info, I'll get on Sunday to reply or get the convo started. I'd do it now but I'm running late.

Have a good weekend, everyone o7

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell scraped up the remains of food on the plate into a neat pile, scooped it up and and shoved the fork in his mouth, then let the cutlery clatter on the dish, leaning back in a little stretch as he munched away. "En-gee-ell, the food around here is pretty good," he said, muffled by a full mouth. "Add one more reason to keep the invaders out," he added, managing to grin while chewing. Thankfully, he swallowed before continuing with his terrible table manners. "Well, I mean, if Saladin's army can prove they can out-do Valhiem's best chefs, I might be persuaded to turncoat."

It was a good job there were no civilians in earshot. This wasn't exactly peak comedy. Topical, sure. Appropriate? About as far as fucking possible from the word.

Quite used to finishing his meals before everyone else, Zell was content to wait patiently for James to finish, but the silence was broken by his friend.

"Hey, do you remember the Blessing James used against Zigmund?"

"?" Zell hesitated for a moment. This was the first time he'd ever heard James refer to himself in the third person. "How could I forget, mate. I'm not sure we could've gotten in close enough for the killshot, had you not rattled Tin Head's brain so badly that he couldn't think straight."

"I never got to explain it did I? Not properly I mean"

Zell thought back to the moments after the fight. Everyone was hurt to varying degrees, but it hadn't stopped Zell noticing that something wasn't right with James. "Been wondering about that," Zell replied, interlocking his fingers behind his head. At least he didn't have to pry now.

"It does not transfer memories, not really, instead it... it makes both entities understand each other, when James used it on Zigmund he didn't get his memories, instead he saw everything, his past, his ambitions, his regrets, his hopes, and he Understood. When the blessing ran its course, I found that I was as much James as I was Zigmund" This was clearly tough for James to admit, and for obvious reasons. It was fucking PSYCHO CRAZY! "Those first hours were rough I admit, I did not- could not accept who I was when they still didn't reach a consensus but that is no longer a problem, it is in the past now and I was able to move on, I am James, I am Zigmund, and I am me"

What in the actual fuck! Zell thought, frozen in his relaxed pose (while literally ANYTHING but fucking relaxed.) He didn't even blink. This was insanity. James had merged with Zigmund, in mind.

Was it permanent? Would this bring any danger to the crew? Was he strong enough to bare this?

Three questions. All of which, he'd asked of himself - verbatim - very recently.

They were both fucked in a very similar way. Different in details, maybe different substantively, but so similar it was like destiny was playing a sick joke on the pair.

"I am saying this to you because you have earned my trust and I hope you can trust in me the same way"

"Damn straight, bruv," he quickly batted back.

"So please Zell, talk to me"

Zell looked around, as he took his hands off his head and leaned in. "I'm in some frighteningly similar shit, mate. Seriously, it's mad you've just said this to me." He subconciously peeked at James' forehead, wondering how the hell Zigmund was in James' skull. "But what do you mean, you've made peace with this? How?" He shook his head. "Wait, hold that thought. Blimey I have a tonne of questions, we need to seriously have a catch up and get on the same page with ALL of this, cuz every detail is important. But... right... me..."

And Zell proceeded to give a summation of his own situation. He did not completely weigh his best friend down in info, right off the bat, but not out of mistrust. He just wanted to first level the playing field. He told James about Baphomet allowing him to unwittingly 'volunteer' a transfer of the curse to himself. He explained that he'd not had even so much as a single peaceful nap since that drunken night on the town when it all began; cutting that statue in half. He explained that he was absolutely terrified that Barracker was going to get all 'Holy Fucking Crusader' on him and give Zell the same treatment that Zell had given Zigmund.

With that basic outline covered, Zell stood up. "Let's take a walk to somewhere a little less crowded, bro. We've got a lot of things to hash out."

...

They ended up at the canalside, sat down on the grass in a big enough area that no one would be able to get close enough to overhear them without them noticing first.

"I imagine you've got quite a bit of information that might be able to help me out, here." Zell gave a little head-tilt. "From being a Cleric maybe, aswell as being... Zigmund- Bro, are you totally sure you've 'Made Peace' with this arrangement in your noggin, right now? Do you know if you'll have to live with this for the rest of your life, or what?" A small part of him suddenly wondered if James was dealing with any resentment due to Zigmund getting killed by Second Chance. "If you're sure, then I trust you, of course - say no more. But we should probably create contingency plans for eachother, just in case anything goes wrong."

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

James taking offence to the idea of Zell teaching him a few different ways to attack with his inherited weapon was not the most surprising thing in the world. They were men, after all - it was crazy, just what particular things might hurt any given man's ego. Zell understood. He wasn't immune to that kind of thing, either. He grinned through the moment of silence and scowling from the cleric.

"Come on, bro," Zell went on, deciding to offer up something self-depracating to even the score. "Ninety percent of my role, in this party, is to be the enemy's punching bag. At least give me a chance to be a bit more useful, when I have the opportunity."

When James deflated and accepted, Zell was a happy man. Catching Adam's attention be drawn over his shoulder, he looked and saw MacKensie had appeared. "Mornin, Mac," he greeted. The response was a clear indication that he was in trouble with the Frenchwoman, which (Zell being Zell) could be for any number of reasons, but the fact she'd also given James the same death-stare, at least narrowed the possibilities down. In the time it took for MacKensie to leave the building and Zell to quirk his eyebrow at James, it occured to him what the answer might be. "Shit." The real question was; How much does she know? Because Lucy had spilled the beans, but Lucy only knew about a small part of that whole night. This could be bad... or worse... much worse.

Zell covered his eyes as he rubbed his brow, feeling a little bad but unable to take the smile off his face. When he was done failing to show any remorse (she was gone, so it didn't matter much,) Zell decided to tease James about it, albeit somewhat coded-ly. "Hey man, I dunno this Sillagy gal," he said, feigning to leave his friend to hang out to dry alone. "Nowt to do with me."

He chuckled. Of course, the two friends were in the shit, together. Zell was loyal enough to accept half the blame for the Guildhouse ban. And the carousing with local criminals. Oh, and the Grand-Theft-Horse... and the running from the law, jail time and criminal record.

This could get uglyyyyyy.

“Huh, MacKensie seems upset. Would either of you know why?”

Zell looked at Adam, then back at James and showed gritted teeth. This simp has the sense of humour of a sheltered choir boy, the swordsman tried to psychically transmit to his best friend. We tell him and he'll rat faster than a ninja-turtle's sensei.

Then back to Adam. "See no evil, n all that, mate." He shook his head to assure the young man that it wasn't worth pursuing, and hoped James would follow his lead. Luckily there was a great change of subject presented. "Frederick! My man!" the innkeeper placed his food down and Zell thanked him again, then put all his attention on the complete destruction of his second breakfast of the morning.

...

"Fuck me, bro, how have you got the strength to throw this thing about so easily!?" Zell said as he handled James' anchor. "Christ."

Zell got to grips with the weapon, and after finding out that James could summon strength through magic, better understood the Mexicano's limits and what Zell should show him.

He talked him through the correct foot-placements and anchor placement for best accelaration of first swing, and good ways to chain together attacks in two and three-hit combos, using downward strikes to end chain-attacks, where the floor could instantly stop the momentum of the anchor and allow the cleric to reset his stance or switch to magic quickly and effectively.

"Always start with the chain kept short, for a tight first-swing. Step backward or to the side, the opposite way to the direction that the anchor's going, to pull the momentum back quickly behind you so you can attack again.

You can let the chain longer mid-swing once you have some speed, but bare in mind; it takes a bit of practice to land accurately. Although if you get the hang of shortening and lengthening the chain during a fight, that practice will pay off a tonne, bruv, coz you only need an enemy off-guard once and they are mince meat."

They went through some drills, Zell trying to not be absolutely amazed at how far his Weapons Knowledge went. I could have sworn it was just swords and swordsmanship, back in Hommas. But then, by the time they all made it to Valhiem with the cube, Zell knew a bunch about what made an effective infantry unit, military formations and field battle concepts like momentum, morale and regiment manoeuvres. And now I'm an expert with a bloody giant anchor!

The boost to his natural athleticism was increasing too. He was much stronger, tougher, faster and more coordinated than before. In Hommas, he KO'd himself after getting flung into a wooden gate. But some of the hits and damage he'd taken since then had been much worse, yet only slowed him down - force of will keeping him pushing through all barriers.

He told all of this to James when they eventually decided to take a break and go and grab some lunch at an open-air taverna. "...I mean, I still would've liked a fucking lightning beam," he half-joked. "But I really can't complain. We've got a solid mix of Adventurer Classes in our party. They fit well with eachother. And of course, we all work well together too." He took a bite and chewed as he thought that now was probably the best chance he would get to bringing himself to share this 'Baphomet problem.' But should he? The consequences could be disastrous. And was it really a problem...? Having a fucking incredible power? "I trust your leadership. Hell, I trust you with my life. You're like my best fucking mate, in this world. It's like I've known you all my life." (Funny that this was actually true. In this second life, he had, literally, known James all his life. And maybe that was also partly to explain for the rapid bonds he'd developed with the group.) "Feel like I could confide in you about anything. Which..."

This is a fucking gamble.

"Err..."

Don't. Don't do it. You've got it handled. Have I? Yes. Zell was struggling, and he couldn't even look James in the eye at this point. You're in charge of Him. Not the other way around. He is stuck with You. Not the other way around. Don't show weakness. You've shown enough of that already.

At this point, even with Zell's gigantic ego, he was at least smart enough to have a scrap of doubt, but his ego started to win over.

"Ah..." still struggling. "...nothing, mate. Never mind."

Fuck.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Push! Push!

Legs burning, Zell maintained his sprint all the way up Citadel Mountain until he breathlessly touched a hand on the archway at the top. "Aw, fuck." He put his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "That run is murder."

For the second time, after reaching the end of the mountain road, he dropped down and started his three sets of thirty push-ups and sit-ups. He got about halfway through his last set when some guards interrupted him.

"Oi!" It took another "Oi, you," for Zell to stop what he was doing, hoping to get to the end of his thirty reps but now the armoured man and woman were upon him.

He groaned as he rose to his feet, his bare torso covered with sweat - a bit of dirt on his back from the off-road sit-ups. His tee-shirt and towel were down the hill at Little Bridge where he usually left them during his morning exercise. He took his time before looking at the guards, rolling his neck and shoulders - a subtle quarter-turn so he could scratch the back of his head with his left hand... and they could see his Source Crystal. Finally, he sighed and turned around to look at them. "Mornin."

"Get off the mountain," the woman said. An elf, by the look of her. She had a helmet on so Zell couldn't see the ears, but he was starting to get accustomed to this world and could tell the difference even without the most obvious feature. "We've reports that you're getting in the way of important work."

"When the road got busy, I made sure to stay on the grass," Zell countered. "And is that any way to speak to a Captain of the garrison?" The reaction of both guards was masked well, but not well enough. They were not ready for that. Valhiem's defensive force hadn't yet been briefed that the adventurers were being promoted to Captains, so Zell throwing this title around was actually giving him a bit of motion. "Is this how Sergeant Major Gorgrim and the other officers drill their soldiers?"

"Excuse me, Captain-"

"Captain Brooks."

"-Captain Brooks. My apologies, sir, it's just that the supplies for the last defensive line are coming up the hill. Orders are that the mountain roads are to be kept as clear as possible."

Her explanation got no response right away, Zell put his hands on his hips, chin raised pompously as his eyes flicked back and forth to each of them. If only they knew that he was just fucking with them. "Alright, I was pretty-much done anyway. Carry on, soldiers."

They saluted him and he watched them go, before getting back on the floor and finishing his last set, then heading back down the mountain with a laugh and shake of his head. "Impending doom and you're still piss-arsing about," he reprimanded himself with a chuckle. "Get a grip, mate."

He used his towel to wipe his face and whip the worst of the dirt off his back before donning his tee-shirt, then went and grabbed some breakfast from a food stand at the Bazaar, talking to the server about how weird it must feel with the city still going on as normal whilst under attack. The server agreed, but declared his trust in the High Septum. No mention of the Mayor though, Zell noted, although that was no surprise really. Zell ate in the relatively silent ambience of the marketplace. The Bazaar was dead. Not in terms of people - there were people getting around - but the vibe was rotten. The citizenry were scared. No suprise there, either. At least there's not mass panic, Zell surmised. Then his thoughts spilled onto his tongue. "Not yet, anyway," he muttered.

"Pardon?" the server asked.

"Oh, nothing."

...

Zell entered The Mended Drum, holding each end of his the towel that was around the back of his neck. "Mornin lads," he greeted to Adam and James. He had already seen Fred this morning, but gave him a nod anyway. He went upstairs, had a shower and got changed before coming back downstairs. He went over to his friends' table and spun a chair around so he could sit on it backwards, which allowed his sword to rest easy strapped to his back.

"Fuck, it's weird out there," he told the Druid and Cleric. "Word is, we've got nine days before this General Saladin guy..." he looked at James. ...I'm guessing you know him..." then continued to them both. "...is going for a full-scale assault, so the civilian population have been told to go on with their daily lives until it's time to go up the hill." Zell made a puzzled face. "A bit risky, ain't it?"

Fred - ever the consumate professional - brought Zell over a pint of water without even being asked: Zell's morning usual. "Oh, Fred, you're a star, bruv."

"What you having t'eat Zell, lad?" Fred asked, mirroring Zell's informal, familiar and friendly countenance. The two were on good terms from the personable conversations they would have each day that Second Chance were in town. Considering his short time in Valhiem - hell, his short time in Mytheria - the Englishman already knew a lot of people. Networking just came natural to the man and had always brought him success, whether for business or pleasure.

"Aw, I'm stuffed mate," was the response. "I ate at the Bazaar earlier. Don't tempt me." Fred gave a reverse-nod and was about to leave it at that, but Zell said, "Oh, you've twisted my arm - I'll have a little bite. You wanna do me a cold chicken salad? You got kale? Spinach? Fantastic, fill a big bowl of that up. Stick one or two tomatoes in there too, if don't mind, mate. And a few boiled eggs?" Fred laughed and gave a thumbs up before going to get to work. "Plenty of chicken please, mate."

He looked back at his friends, listening to whatever they were talking about with his arms folded on the chair-back. After a while, he thought to let them in on the rest of the info he'd gathered.

"This battle coming won't be easy. We're outnumbered about six to one, as the military officers reckon. And they say that by the time the assault comes, our magical forces will be outnumbered by something like twenty to one, due to holding that sky barrier up for so long." Zell's information was reliable but possibly not perfect in accuracy. His source was the Sergeant Major he'd been speaking with, last night. "Apparently the garrison morale isn't great either," Zell shook his head. "This fighting business doesn't get any easier, does it, boys," he commented, though his tone was not even close to a downer. "I'm ready for whatever, anyway. Saladin's about to find out what Zigmund had to learn the hard way too: Second Chance are built different. He ain't never seen anything like us."

This actually wasn't just Zell's usual bravado masking concerns and anxiety. Zell had damn-near convinced himself he was invincible, today, after hearing Barracker's words about them at the meeting - after reading the words of Melina the Witch Queen. Obviously, the situation was dire. Obviously he couldn't just go and take on the army by himself. But his self-belief was on Ten.

Of course, Zell had shown his confidence to always be high, even in situations when it probably shouldn't be, so his mood was also in large part due to his general personality.

And maybe, just maybe, in-part due to Baphomet changing his tactics and stroking the swordsman's ego all night. And speaking of The Prince of the Oblivion Plane...

"Ay, bro," he said to James, some time after the conversation petered out. "I wanted to show you a few things with that anchor of yours. You swing it like a madman. A few tips and tricks wouldn't hurt. Wha'dya'say?"

...He needed to get James alone so he could confess this fucking curse-thing. And James was the only person he trusted to help him with it.

.........And James did actually swing that anchor like a fucking lunatic.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

alright enough interruptions. time to write

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell was glad that he and Fenna were in agreement about which side was which, in this war. Or, at the very least, on the same page about which was more plausibly 'The Good Fight.' With the reassurance that Fenna brought to his mind, Zell was confident that all of the group would arrive at a similar conclusion, although he would still want to check in with each of them to be sure of this. After all, Second Chance was a team and togetherness had been one of their strengths, so far in this strange world of unknown quantities and dangers. So he would be a good Englishman and follow democratic process. If, for some reason, he and Fenna found themselves outnumbered by a strong urge to go east, Zell would, without hesitation, do what he could to keep everyone together and head east. He also trusted James' leadership and smarts, so even if they did decide to go hear The Witch Queen out, there would be a Plan A, B and C for whatever happened next.

But this was probably not even worth thinking about. Barracker had already chosen his side. Obviously. What were the chances that all four of the others would want to go the opposite direction? Almost zero. But the principle of togetherness was important all the same.

What Zell was even more glad about, concerning Fenna, was the woman opening up to him about her life and her family. "Jeez, sounds worse than English weather, ha!" It was a fun time, offered some good laughs and it was nice to hear genuine joy in Fenna's voice as she talked about the things that were imporant to her. "Forest guard, eh? No wonder you ended up as a Ranger. Perfect for the job." He listened with his usual lop-sided grin as she talked for a bit, and the third beer slowly disappeared as they conversed. "They sound like an awesome little pair of ankle-biters, mate. Proper good kids."

Fenna had showed another side of herself. Full time mother and holding down a job? And not just any random retail gig... a forest guard... something that sounded like it actually improved society and required more than two braincells. No wonder the woman was so tough. Her constitution and countenance during the hard times they'd gone through, it all made more sense now. Her ability to quietly get on with things, yet be friendly, caring, perceptive and wise, all spoke volumes in previous observations by Zell of Fenna, but here was another piece of the puzzle that cystalized this woman further. She was exceptional. Perhaps that's why she had been kidnapped. Wait... Perhaps that's why ALL of them had been chosen for this destiny. Zell, of course, thought a hell of a lot about himself already - his narcissism was apparent - but when he thought more about the things he'd observed from his friends; Fenna, James, MacKensie... all of them. They were all people of pretty exceptional quality, even without the magic.

"How are you holding up?"

"Me?" Zell echoed. "Ah, I'll live. Could be worse. Could be dead."

"You became a badass warrior who can teleport and owns a fancy sword. Is it difficult to be here for you?"

"Well, the whole teleportation and fancy sword certainly helps," he quipped, although he couldn't keep the somber sadness from his voice this time. He sighed. "I dunno, to be honest mate, I try not to think about... well, anything about England. Family. Friends. I just... block it all out. I try to focus on 'the now' - Getting us all through this, in one piece." He rubbed his mouth and squinted. "It's weird, I feel so..."

Oh shit, the beer was loosening his lips, bringing out his emotions! Alert! Emergency! Possible tear-jerker talk! Shut-down protocols engage.

"I dunno... I'm not good at emotional shit. I'm a typical English bloke. Repress, repress, repress." Honest feelings suddenly spilled out. "Some fucking driver ran a red light and took me right the fuck out. I remember the whole thing. The pain. The paralysis. The life draining from me all the way until the end." He shook his head. "You were kidnapped, Fenna - kidnapped from your life... and for that reason; we will stop at nothing to get you back home," he assured her passionately. Then shrugged. "But me? What do I have to go back to? Being dead? Or does that traffic accident never happen if we get the chance to go back to our world? I need more information before I even know what I can wish for, or what I can grieve for, or what to feel about anything. I'm in the weirdest fucking headspace imaginable." He looked at her. "And that part... that uncertainty about what I should even feel... is probably what pains me the most. Not to mention, fucking terrifying."

Don't you dare fucking cry, you piece of shit, he told himself, looking away from Fenna. Alert! Shut-down protocols, last warning! Forcing a smile and lightly slapping the table.

"Quite the conundrum, my good friend!" he turned back to her with a jolly tone and his usual grin. "But fuck it! We march on like champions. And speaking of marching on, why don't we grab the guys and head back to the Mended Drum. I think we all deserve a proper sleep. And we're gonna need all the rest we can get."

He got off the stool and stretched in a loud yawn. "Where is everyone?"

He shared a smile with Fenna and one last, "We can do this, mate. Together," before they went and found Clive and James in the Guildhouse. MacKensie and Adam were nowhere to be found, so Zell suggested that the group wait for a while, until enough time had passed that they could safely assume the Frenchwoman and American had probably made their own way home back to The Mended Drum. Whether they showed up in time or not, everyone headed home with the help of at least one of them being sensible enough to keep a map of the city in their inventory. Zell had lost his map and was a bit tipsy so he was no help at all, (no surprise there,) and the swordsman simply followed the group and cracked a few jokes to pass the time.

Once back in his rented room, at the Mended Drum, Zell got out of his armour and climbed into bed, falling asleep fast. The comfy bedrest was welcome. What was not welcome was The Prince of the Oblivion Plane who'd been waiting for him patiently, so they could have another talk.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

MacKensie: "This war, all this killing, it's weighing on me."

Adam: "Had an uncle go to war once. After he returned, he killed himself."

MacKensie: "..."

Adam: "You'll be okay."


lolololol

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

lol at Zell selling candy in 12th grade. Correction 12 years old. Not sure why I suddenly remembered the mistake but here I am

as you were ppl

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

They took their first few swigs in tandem and in silence. Zell's thoughts strayed to his mum and dad, but landed and stayed on his older sister.

Zell had grown up in a good middle-class household in West London, just outside the mega-rich Chelsea area. His father and mother had both come from working class backgrounds, so their values and culture was very-much the stereotypical, commoner cockney folk, his father remaining especially engrained in that hard-working, 'cheeky cockney lad' attitude, which is where Zell got his particular brand of charisma from. Zell however, being bad at studies and school from an early age (mixed with his family's lack of 'Fuck You Money') meant that he would go to (that is; his parents forced him to go to) a bad college after high school. However, the kid had been blessed with a promising talent for football and a streak of entrepreneurship that meant he always had some method of making a few quid - from buying large packs of sweets and selling them in singles in 7th grade, to dealing in similar wholesale/retail schemes with cigarettes and vape pens in later years.

He'd always been good with girls, partly due to his own attributes, (being tall, athletic and relatively handsome had it's own benefits) but most definitely because of his sister, Phoebe. Phoebe was a few years older than Zell and practically beat her little brother over the head with the biblical laws of fashion, hygiene, what's popular, dating - all from the POV of a teenage girl. She was a know-it-all. Ever the type who 'was pretty and she knew it.' And that was their relationship - her being on his ass whenever she had the chance, and preaching her values and ideals. From 5yrs old all the way to his 20's. He hated her at times, but when his adolesence started to kick in, they became quite close.

And so, of all his family, he missed her the most.

Whenever his deepest feelings managed to avoid suppression and reach the forefront of his mind, he always found himself wondering what she was doing. Last time he'd spoken with her, she was two months pregnant and looking at houses with her fiance.

~~~~"Location, location." Phoebe's current catchphrase. "I'd rather get somthing small with a good postcode. I'm not raising children in a shoddy neighbourhood."~~~~

She was sooo high maintenance and materialistic. Thank god she'd found a rich enough guy to handle that. She was a good person though. When recent family medical problems had arisen, she was front and center, being there for all involved, without even needing asking.

Zell smiled.

In a way, he'd proven in Mytheria that he was kinda similar - Egotistical and vexing in good times, but dependable and strong when shit hit the fan. When the going gets tough, the tough get going, Zell thought as he downed the last of his pint.

"Mate," he called the barman. "Two more o' those, if you don't mind." He looked at Fenna and grinned. "One good beer deserves another." As Barracker came and went, Zell reached a hand behind himself to pat Barracker back in comraderie. "Cheers, Kass. G'night mate."

...during the 2nd beer...

He'd spared Fenna his rambling up until this point, content to simply be here with his friend in companionable silence as she had a much-needed beer. But now, his chatbox started working.

"I don't know about you, Fenna, but I feel like The Witch Queen told us the truth," he said. "Pretty much every word. Just a gut feeling." He glanced at her then back at the bottles behind the bar. "There ain't no way we can go to her side though. Everytime we bloody blink, we get dragged further into this war. I just can't imagine we'll just stroll east to Azeroth and she'll be like 'Right, off you go, chaps,' with a rolled out red carpet and dimensional portal at the end." He shook his head. "Nah. She'll want something in return. And let's face it, it will involve being in this war."

He lifted his drink to his lips but paused turned to her with raised eyebrows. "But... there is a way to get back. I can feel it." He took a sip and continued. "We are gonna get used and abused by these Mytherians before they let onto us; the way home. But mark my words, if we keep our eyes and ears open, we might just figure out 'the magic door' without the Emperor or 'Rightful Empress.' And if we do, then I wouldn't begrudge any of us taking the opportunity ot get the fuck outta here."

He looked around a little, eyeing the wooden beams in the ceiling, the barman, the adventurer down the bar who was getting a round in for his party...

"We're on the right side," he added to the conversation. "If we're stuck here, in this world - in this war - then we're stuck on the right side of it, at least. We can be sure of that."

...during the 3rd beer...

"What's the Netherlands like, eh?" Zell asked, a slight smile and encouraging nudge to Ranger. "What's the average day in the life of Fenna Postma?"

Whatever she would reveal he would listen intently and enjoy it, maybe even asking a follow-up question or two about her family's personalities and such. Fenna was always so strong and silent, (which was actually fucking badass, in Zell's opinion) but it couldn't be easy always being that way. So Zell would give her the opportunity to let off some steam, talk about something positive and passionate, and maybe gain some strength from it.

However, he wouldn't pry too hard. He was sharp enough to know if he needed to take his foot off the gas.