Saiyan

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"...most of all-" the southerner raised the dirty mug up with a wry smile "Well good beer of course," Clive stifled a snort and Zell grinned.

"Too right, mate. I'd give my last silver for even a watered-down Fosters, right now."

They knocked their mugs against eachothers an extra time for good measure before Clive sighed and looked somewhat more serious. The cowboy had started on a sincere answer, mentioning family first. He'd probably cracked a joke just to make the 'sharing' a little more palatable between the two men. Zell understood.

"If...If I'm bein' darn well honest I reckon what I miss most is what I used to have, my life was simple I...I was a gosh darn farmer, I worked a field and took care of horses not...Not this...Sometimes it's just so...Overwhelming y'know?"

"I hear ya, mate. You aren't alone in that one." Zell gulped down some beer. "My life wasn't exactly simple... Come to think of it, it was pretty fucking crazy at times." A flurry of images flickered through Zell's mind, among them; the parties, the nightclubs. Hand-offs of little baggies of just about every drug that could be found in London. Recieving wads of notes from his workers, counting piles of cash in his dorm. Getting a brutal kicking from club bouncers who'd caught him moving in on their turf, meeting big names in the London's criminal underworld. Still though... "But it was nothing compared to this shit," he made a show of looking at the source crystal in the back of his left and shook his head exasperatedly. "Sometimes, when I wake up, it takes me a second to remember that this is all real." He looked at Clive with a snort and a grin. "So... simple country boy, eh? What's that like? I've only ever known the city."

There was a hint of reluctance but Clive did indeed go into some details about his old life. Zell enjoyed it, laughing along with some of the stories. It was an alien lifestyle and definitely not to Zell's taste, but Clive's passion and storytelling was persuading the Englishman that he might actually love it.

...

"Y'know somethin?" the farmer leered closer to his companion placing a hand around his shoulder, his speech somewhat stunted and eyes bleary from the drink. The sun was almost set. Zell was somewhere between drunk and tipsy himself, at this point, and he leaned right into Clive to hear him. The two looked like they were huddling together for warmth or something. "When-Wh-When I died...Ag-Again, it was so dark..." Zell moved away enough to be able look Clive in the eye and there he saw a troubled soul. "I can't get it out o' my head no matter how much I try."

"Musta been weird ay-eff," was all Zell could think to say. It was pretty traumatic for his own self, remembering every moment from getting hit by that bus to finally passing away. Pretty traumatic to say the least. Clive had two deaths to haunt him. And the description of this second one sounded fucking terrifying. There was an oppressive weight to the minimalism of it. The nothingness. "We won't let it happen again, bruv. Mark my words."

...

"Fenna! Let's fucking goooo." The appearance of the Dutchwoman was fantastic and she looked ready to drink. Zell and Clive were not so drunk that Fenna wouldn't be able to catch up to them. "Barman. Get our friend a mug." Zell had only parted ways with her this afternoon, yet he greeted her like they hadn't seen eachother in ages, holding out his hand so he could clasp hers with a hearty clap. "Our search for Amstel or Heineken has borne zero fruit, but they got somethin that passes for beer... barely."

"Hey," the barman protested as he pulled a drink from the barrel.

"No offence," Zell apologised, then whispered to Fenna. "It's crap, but it does the job."

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"It's like," Zell went on to the short, bushy-eyebrowed barkeep. "I got feelings too. As soft as it may it sound." He took a swig of his ale. "I'm a person."

"I dunno."

Zell looked offended. "Wha'dya mean, 'you dunno'?"

"Well, I mean, you did say you were the asshole o' the group. Doin asshole things. Sayin asshole things all e'time, reet?"

Bartender confidentiality didn't usually come with so much pushback. "Yeah, but not all the time. I can be nice. Clever? On occasion." Zell knew these were not the strongest claims. "Sort of," he weakly added. "Surely I've got more use to me than fuckinggg..." he shook his head, looking at the counter for the right words but couldn't find them. Then he looked further down, between his legs. "...I dunno... like I'm nothing more than a 6'2" breathing machine for my di-"

"Achoo!"

He was interrupted from finishing his vulgar comment at the last second by the other man sat at the bar. Both Zell and barkeep looked at the old man who was wiping his nose with one hand and raising the other in apology. The barkeep, who was on automatic, wiping 'clean' his dirty mugs with his dirty rag, put another mug down and grabbed the next one. "I can't say I can relate, lad," he said. "I've never been desired for my body."

Zell looked him up and down, noting in particular the giant belly hanging out from under his shirt. The Englishman tilted his head in understanding, then took another swig.

Now the old man with the sneeze decided to get involved. "Ay. Been listenin, I ave, to your dilemma. And I might ave the solution yer lookin for."

Zell's eyebrows were raised, his expression skeptical but he said nothing. The barkeep kept polishing his mugs, still mildly interested in the conversation. The old patron went on.

"I once heard of this scientist from out west who presented an experiment of sorts to his peers. He placed a rat in a small room with nought but a fresh cheese he'd posioned in advance." What the fuck!? was Zell's only thought. "He put it to his peers that until they went in the room to find out if the rat had eaten the cheese and died, two realities existed silemul-taneously. In one reality the rat was dead. In the other, it was alive. But both existed." You could tell that the old man felt quite smart relaying this information. "This phenomenon was coined after the scientists name and thereby dubbed, 'Broodinger's Rat.'" Sneeze! "I'd put it to you that, until you tell this girl o' yours how yous really feel, you don't know what her response will be. So both realities exist. One where you live happily e'r after. And one where yous take yer own life outta depression. Your love is like Broodinger's Rat."

There was a silence that fell on the three. Even the barkeep had stopped polishing. Zell, who literally looked in pain, he was so baffled by what he'd just heard, couldn't even begin. "Double-you. Tee. Eff." Aside from the absolute nonsense of a story, Zell wasn't even sure there'd been a solution presented. "What in the fuck kinda bollocks is that? This is what passes for science in Mytheria?"

The old man looked hurt. "Think so. It might be philosophy."

"Gibberish is what that was. In my world, if some so-called professor had come up with that, he'd be a laughing stock." He shared his disappointed expression between the old man and the barkeep. "Fat lotta help you two are."

"Hey, you're the one came cryin te us. No one asked for ye life story."

Zell supposed that was fair, but shook his head anyway. Done with the conversation, he swivelled on his stool to check out the rest of the room, clocking through the window by the door, a familiar face coming into the tavern. "Well, well." He quickly looked at the barkeep and the old man. "Hey, we never had this conversation, yeah? Not a word." Then he looked back at the door as it opened and nodded to his friend, letting the farmer mosey on over before speaking. "Bit of a coincidence, this, ain't it."

"I ain't even gonna ask what in the devil brought you out here..."

"You don't wanna know, bruv," Zell replied, noting Clive's tired face and tone, which was not like the Texan at all.

Then, as if reading the Englishman's mind, Clive put a hand on Zell's shoulder, sighing "Y'know you and I, we look like shit right now...Reckon we might as well drink to make us feel like it too."

Zell let out a breath. "Christ. Truer words were never spoken. Let's get to it."

And so the pair began their quest to get wasted. Each beer, they knocked their dirty mugs against eachother's in salute before starting on it. They talked a little about how military training was going, Zell naming a couple of soldiers from The Lions that he liked in particular. He was happy to hear about what Clive was doing with his own band as he hadn't seen too much of the Military Centre, the swordsman shirking his duties half the time. After two beers, Zell turned the conversation onto Earth.

"So tell me: Wha'dya miss most about Texas, eh?"

A bit of nostaglia was in order and Zell would enjoy hearing anything other than Mytheria shit, right now. America had always felt like a totally different place to Zell, but here in a world where armies of the undead, willy-nilly just decided to sit outside and lay siege to your city, America was practically home for the Englishman.

He also wanted to ask the man what was on his mind. Clive looked troubled. But Zell decided to wait another beer into their drinking session. He was actually quite happy to just drink and talk about regular stuff, but he figured he should give his friend a chance to get his problems off his chest if he felt like it. He did eventually ask.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

this you lol psyco

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Ugh, this post fought me all the way and I am still not happy with it. Got a lot of stress cuz some bad news lately and I can't focus properly on writting. But anyway, post up.

@Teyao

post was fire to me, bruv. you have picked the hardcore difficulty with this zigmund shit tho lol you always play on hard mode tho. i respect it

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell was forced out of MacKensie's room by way of being poked repeatedly in the waist and hissed at. "Go, go, go, go..."

"Ow - alright - ow - I'm going, jeez..."

Zell stumbled out of the room and quickly made his way down the corridor to his own room. When he got to his door, he looked back in time to see MacKensie's door shut. A little in shock, Zell shook his head bewilderedly and went inside.

He was soon in the shower, feeling sorry for himself as the water blasted on the top of his head.

"She's ashamed of me," he muttered to himself.

Zell, for the first time, had found himself on the short end of what he and his friends liked to call, 'Surfed n Turfed.' Most of the time, when hooking up, both parties understood what the deal was. One night - maybe a week or two at most - just a bit of fun, no problem. Occasionally though, there were those girls who had much higher expectations of the engagement. This kind of problem often led to hurt feelings, emotions toyed with etc. Now Zell understood what it felt like to be one of those girls. It was not nice.

...

Dressed and ready to head out, Zell left his room and walked down the corridor. Sadly, he looked upon MacKensie's door as he passed it, half-hoping she would open it. She didn't. By the time he was once more facing front, his expression was rearranged to a more typical carefree, content and confident vibe.

Stepping outside the Mended Drum, Zell put his hands on his hips, took a whiff of the air and looked around. Setting off down the street, he walked as if ten feet tall and king of everything, nodding an occasional greeting to a passing stranger.

"Hi."

"Afternoon, miss."

Of the few who bothered to respond, not a single citizen mirrored Zell's energy, which made sense considering the suspense and despair of the siege had been increasing with each passing day. Zell was overcompensating anyway. Underneath his social mask, he considered that he was in no fit state, mentally, to go to the Military Centre and see The Lions. It was honestly a good job that his drill sergeants were extremely competent trainers. Between Baphomet pecking his head, almost abandoning Valhiem with the Ambassador, and complications with MacKensie - Zell had been an absentee Captain of the Garrison. Even when he was there, he wasn't all there. And speaking of Baphomet; the bastard was quiet at the moment, but Zell could just imagine the devil laughing his ass off at Zell right now. The self-loathing part of Zell's brain, albeit small, was rather loud right now. The Englishman mocked himself for being such a pussy and skirting every opportunity to be ultra-clear with his feelings to MacKensie. Ego bruised and insecurity at an all-time high, Zell simply tried to ignore his thoughts and push his feelings deep, deep down in the abyss with the rest of them. It was easier said than done.

"Fuck, I need a beer."

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

our resident princess is off the rails rn lol

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Frederick was back behind the bar. On arrival, the old man gave a curt little nod to Zell who returned the gesture with a bounce of his eyebrows. Frederick's assistant was sent off to other duties. As Zell drank from his glass, he caught a visual of gold in his peripherial and looked in time to see a blue cape and blonde hair disappear up the stairs. Zell sighed and turned about to his lean back against the bar with glass in hand. Only him and Fenna were left, but the Dutchwoman soon decided to be off aswell.

"Back to work I guess," she said to him as she made to leave.

"Alright mate," Zell nodded. "Catch ye later, yeah."

He absently watched her go until Frederick, who was buffing down the bar with a rag, piped up. "And then there was one."

With a smirk and a slight turn of his head, Zell acknowledged the barkeep, but his mind was soon back on MacKensie. He was deciding wether or not he should try to speak to her. There was a chance he could make things worse (Zell being Zell, this chance was not insignificant) but at least he could say he tried. The Englishman had lived his life boldly. The very opposite of risk-averse. But here he was, stumbling, fumbling and bumbling.

He finally came to a decision. "You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take," he said to himself - a phrase not uncommon from his mouth.

He took a deep draught of his ice water and put it down on the bar, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve and headed for the stairs. He arrived at MacKensie's room and knocked on the door, deciding against calling out, as he knew that she may not even open the door if she knew it was him. When she opened the door, he knew he'd have to be quick.

"Mac, can we talk? Please," he asked, ready to put his foot in the doorway so she couldn't slam the door in his face. "Come on, doll. We can't go on like this. It's killin me - not being able to have a laugh with you, like normal. The banter between you, me n James is half of what keeps me sane in this shitshow." His one-sided grin was soft, hopeful. Anything but the usual cocksure. "Everyone's gone. Let's just talk."

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"Well undead or not, we’ll show that Saladin some good ol’ Texas hospitality and then some." the farmer laughed.

There was a split-second where Zell noticed... something. Something in Clive's face that the Englishman had never seen there before. Hadn't cared to see before. Also, he wasn't even sure what it was. It caused Zell to freeze momentarily before sharing in the laughter. "Yeah," Zell agreed. "Then pack em up and send them home." Just before grabbing a tray, Zell gave Clive a little pat on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Clive. Can always rely on you to hold sturdy."

On the way back to the table, Zell was in good spirits, but in his mind he began wondering. Had anyone really bothered to ask Clive how he was feeling? Not that Zell could blame anyone if they hadn't - Clive was the quintessential tough guy. That whole 'unshakable, confident' disposition Zell liked to carry himself with? Clive did it and made it look easy. The Texan was cheerful and friendly, but strong and self-contained with it. Point being: It would be easy to forget that the man had only recently been RESSUR-FUCKING-RECTED. What in the fuck was his first thought when he woke up? Was it like, right after Zigmund had damn-near twisted his head off like a bottle of Sprite, or had he been to some kind of afterlife for his brief stint out of the game? And how traumatic had that experience been?

I'll have to keep an eye on him, Zell thought to himself, his stupid grin on his face as he approached the table and began setting half of the group's drinks down. Maybe consider how to approach asking a grown-ass man to open up emotionally to another guy.

“Fenna, can you believe Tyrion has actually made that skateboard you told him about. All the kids from the orphanage are fighting over it and falling off it. Mother Anne is pulling her hair out.” Barracker laughed. Zell did too as he put his drink down and got rid of the tray on an empty table behind him.

Ha! Fenna giving the kids first-class ideas, he thought. Gotta love it.

“It is an interesting toy your son has, now that I have seen it, I am surprised Tyrion could visualize the contraption after hearing about it just the one time.” Barracker also went on to mention Adam's gift to the orphans. “And Adam has given yet another toy for them to occupy themselves with. He grew them a whole climbing frame in the Temple garden’s. It was quite the sight to see. It definitely took their minds off the war, and will bring much joy to them.”

"Oh that is bloody awesome, that is." Zell couldn't contain that one. He could just imagine the crazy-amazing jungle-gym Adam had concocted. Not to mention the looks on everyone's faces as the Druid conjured it up from the soil, just like how he'd grown that bridge back in the Mazy Hillocks. Zell could feel second hand joy for the orphans and it really brightened his day. Adam was a paragon of altruism. "Plant Man, you gotta heart of gold in that chest. Top notch, bruv."

He gave the youngest member of their crew a thumbs up. Adam's considerate nature could not be overstated and it deserved mention more often. A month ago, Zell would have simply considered him soft - a typical 'nice guy' - but after being saddled with this hero business, Zell had realised that he needed to fix his mentality. Adam had no need to fix anything. He was perfect for the role of saving the world already. And how could the swordsman not respect such a principled, honourable and kind man? He was currently in the process of falling for MacKensie Trydant, in large part for these exact same qualities! While everyone here had a good heart, (Zell probably a little lacking behind the others,) MacKensie and Adam really stood out in that respect. They were do-gooders to the core and damn proud of it.

"Hey Kass, you'll have to bring us all to the orphanage after this is all over," Zell suggested. "Have a celebratory feast with your family."

The food was great. Zell gave the whole 'macho Englishman' shtick of, "Could do with being a bit hotter" - In England, watching the football and having a few pints, then going and getting the hottest fucking Vindaloo curry you could find was considered 'manly.' It was a strange phenomenon when one actually gave it some thought, but Zell didn't make the rules. His grandad did it. His dad it. His friends did it. And he did it too. But anyway, he did give the dish overall a complimentary review and joined in with the others when showering Fred with praise.

"The best airport food was in Prague. The most expensive beer I ever had in my life though... Other than that? My job had me moving around too much for me to do any real fine dining sadly. However, I was treated to a lovely restaurant in Italy. Real fancy place, had to put on a dress for the first time in... gosh, years? Anyway, they had this delicious champagne and a Veal... Buco I think it was called. Everything about it, the food, the atmosphere, it was... " As Alison drifted off into silence, Zell too was drifting off, her story about the restaurant prompting the recent memory of The Nightingale and his 'non-date' with MacKensie. Fine dining indeed. And could dining be any finer than when sat across from the most gorgeous woman in two worlds? His eyes strayed to MacKensie as he wondered if she was thinking about the same thing. "Sorry, just remembering that savory food and cool air," Alison continued. "But yeah, if I had the choice, it'd be that meal."

"That sounds like pretty damn good living, if you ask me," Zell said, dragging his line of sight off the Frenchwoman and smiling at Alison. "And no mistake."

Once everyone was finished, Alison wanted to see about getting access to the Source Comm message. Zell figured James, as their registered party leader, was probably the best man for the job. Zell himself, downed the last bit of his ice-water. "I'm gonna grab one more drink. Then head to the Military Centre. Was asleep all morning. I should probably go see what The Lions have been doing with their day."

All in all, it was an enjoyable lunch. Alison was a top lass, it was great to chill with everyone as a group and the food had hit the spot nicely. Very importantly, it was extremely fortunate to have met Alison after her coffin getting seperated from the the rest of them on arrival. Her experience - her errrm... Data Consulting... would be highly beneficial to the group's survival in this world. Of that, Zell had no doubt.

As people started to break away, saying their goodbyes, Zell gave a couple of 'See ya later's before heading to the bar to get another tall glass of ice water. Alison's story of that Italian restaurant had really got him thinking about that night again. Such a mess. But surely one that he could clear up. Surely? He didn't know. MacKensie was not like any girl he'd dealt with before. He'd never been so scared of fucking things up even worse, too.

He let a breath out as he leaned on the bar, staring at the barrels behind Frederick's assistant. "Cheers, boss," he took the glass and lingered for a second to take a sip and straighten things out in his head.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

@Saiyan a bit of a moment shared between Zell and Clive.

@Dark Cloud

brokebackmountain.gif ?

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"Nice," Zell commented, loudly impressed with Miss Data Consultant's disappearing act.

"This cloak of mine isn't just for fashion. I woke up with it. Seems to bend light in a way to make me as invisible as possible. It's not perfect. I can still make noise and if I move too fast, anyone with a sharp eye will see it distort. That and I can only use it a few times a day, but hey, I'm not complaining."

"And why would you?" Zell tacked on. It was less of a question and more an awe-filled compliment to the powerful cloak. Zell's eyes followed Alison as she went back around the table to her chair. "Unseen Alison, sitting in a tree..." he sang. It took him a moment to think of some more words. He managed it before the nursery rhyme was ruined. "...Draws her dagger, swoops down, R.I.P." He leaned his chair back onto two legs, clearly proud of himself. Nailed it. "Ha!"

James gave him a tap and Zell realised it was his turn to get medical treatment, so he scraped his chair backward and turned slightly to face his best friend. "You're a diamond, bruv... ow!"

While the cleric worked, Zell listened to the talk at the table. His eyes flicked around but landed on the close-up of James, who had a face of concentration. Zell had to wonder just how many more times James would bail him out with his healing. The swordsman was a total fucking damage sponge. He'd had his insides shredded by a magical direwolf, his ribs broken, his arm almost cut off by a wraith, skewered through his abdomen. He'd had Clive's corpse thrown at him, he himself had been thrown by an ogre into a solid wooden gate (and now thrown into a wall by a vampire,) stabbed twenty-odd times in quick succession with ninja-turtle daggers. James had healed him through most of it, saving his life on several occassions.

Zell grinned at the Mexicano when he was done and gave him a wink. "Ppreciate'cha."

...

Eventually, Frederick came around and took orders, even making a suggestion that they try his new dish which was inspired by James' tacos from last week, looking to MacKensie to back him up about how good it was. "I'll give it a go, Fred. Cheers, mate."

He was glad when all the serious talk was over and they moved on to general chatter and banter. It wasn't that the serious topics weren't necessary, it was imperative that Alison be caught up on the situation, but it was nice just to hang out all together for an hour. The last week had been nothing but busy preparations and everyone had been split up, for the most part. Zell felt like he hadn't sat and shot the shit with James in ages, not to mention all the stressful paranoia and drama that had took up space in his head.

"Clive, does that horse of yours need feeding? Where does it go when it's not around?" And then, with a mischievious twinkle in his eye. "Hey James... have you ever ridden a horse? Something tells me you'd be a reckless bastard on one. Just a hunch."

"Ha, that reminds of this one random time that I had to save my dumbass mate. The idiot had fallen down a well."

Fun times.

Zell's attention was drawn to the back room, behind the bar, where he spied Fred emerge with the first plates. So he got up and asked around for who wanted a second drink, commited the requests to memory, repeated them back and nodded.

"Clive, fancy giving us a hand?" They went over to the bar where they were served by Frederick's assistant. "Hey, thanks, by the way..." Zell said to the Texan. "... for upstairs. For understanding and - you know - not making a big deal about it." Clive seemed the type that might have had to smack a friend around the head before, or at least wouldn't be afraid to, if it was necessary. Fight it out and shake hands after, that sorta thing. "To be honest, I needed some sense knocked into me. Kass did me a favour."

He started putting the drinks on the trays as they came.

"So... are you enjoying Valhiem, then?" Clive hadn't seen it, the first time, on account of being dead during their initial visit. "Pretty nice, ain't it. S'even better when it's not surrounded by the undead. You'll see, after we've given Saladin a slap."