Author's Note: My first...well, techinally my third story on Fanfiction! The first two didn't work out so well, so here hoping that third time really is the charm! People always say constructive critism is welcome, either because they actually want feedback or they're fishing for compliments. I'm leaning more toward the former, but I'll admit to fishing in the past. I also bruise easily, not in the sense that I can't take a good punch (well, I am squimish...) but in the sense that flames and flaming people don't sit well with me. I appreciate feedback of any sort, but all I ask is that you keep it constructive and not bashing ^^;;
Thank you ~! Now let's get on with it...
Beginner Adventurer
"Everybody out!" A scruffy man with an eye patch and a gun strapped to his belt manning the wheel waved them off the boat. Needless to say, no one attempted to fight him. What was his problem anyways? He wasn't the one who left everything behind, with nothing except a miniature axe, a few potions, and the clothes on his back, to come to a strange island where they didn't know anybody! Oh, wait – that was just her, wasn't it?
Looking around, Rollah was disappointed to see that it was. The trip had taken a little under a full day. That much time spent with the same people had to have lead to some interactions, a kick for budding friendships to form. But Rollah, ever clueless and out-of-the-know, had spent 85% of the flight asleep in the cabin. And if you're wondering how she got that number, truth is, she made it up. In fact, she probably slept even more than that.
Unlike the night before she left, where she swore she had gotten negative hours of sleep. Not zero, but even less than that (if that was possible). No matter what she did, she just couldn't seem to put her mind at ease so she could get some zees. No, instead she up tossing and turning so much she actually fell out of her bunk-bed (and she was on the top bunk, by the way), worrying about Victoria Island.
Rollah yawned and stretch her stiff limbs. She took one last look at the large ship, her last connection to Maple Island. The large propellers that retracted into the sides of the ships had slipped out again and a few minutes later, the engine roared to life and the blade spun picking up more speed each time it went around. The motion caused harsh winds to blow at the dock and surrounding areas. Rollah placed a single hand above her eye, shielding it as she watched the giant boat lifted off into the sky and disappear from view.
The dust that been disrupted, settled afterwards, and the people dispersed, off to explore the rich new lands. And Rollah was left alone by the docks, starring out at the endless waters that stretched along and encased the island. Barely there for five minutes and already she was homesick. She starred gloomy eyed at the newly arrives Adventurers laughing and wondered what she was missing. Was there something inherently unfriendly about her that pushed people away? Or was it just as simple as the fact that she fell asleep during the ride and failed to make a good impression?
Maybe she just needed to kick-start her life; have something unusual or abnormal happen to her, like a rock sudden falling out of the sky and hitting on the head. Ah, who was she kidding? Stuff like that never happened to her. Her life was as normal as it got. Rollah ran a hand through her hair absentmindedly, picking at the spikes and brushing dirt out.
Uhg, I wish I could say the same thing about my hair. The orangey-brown spikes that sat atop her head made it look like she got caught in a tornado but they were not the result of the wind. In fact, she didn't know how her hair was so unruly. It wasn't always like this; at one point, her hair was composed of soft, glimmering, strands. Then one day, she woke up and in its place sat string locks bunched into spikes that revolved around her head and refused to be tamed. It was just one more thing in her life that changed all of a sudden. She sighed. This wasn't helping; if anything she was going from anxious to just plain depressed.
Instead, she turned attention back to the sea. Everything was ideal for relaxation; to just get away from it all. Rollah closed her eyes to take all in. The squawking of seagulls, the calming breeze, the sound of the waves gentle crashing on the sandy –
"Hey, watch it!"
And, I'm back. Not far off in the distance, the cry was heard, followed by the pitter-patter of two sets of footsteps that ran with all its strength across the cobblestone ground of the harbor. The owners of the those footsteps came into Rollah sight as the travelers parted, creating a clear path, and she saw it was two small, twin boys both bald with"41" and "42" stitched on their clean white shirts. They stop a few inches away from Rollah, who simply stood unsure if what to do. If anything, she should move and let them continue on their journey. But curiosity got the better of the girl.
"What is your problem?" Rollah snapped. She immediately bit her tongue. Hm, it was stuff like that wasn't it? "I mean," she sighed, lowering her voice, "why are you running like maniacs destroying everything in your path?" It was the nicest way she could put. Rollah gestured at the messy trail they had left behind, all the way from the portal to the grounds mere inches from her feet.
The two stopped huffing and wheezing, long enough to look in her eyes. What Rollah say in them was fear. Fear and anxiety. The very same look she was sure she sported during the ride (well, when she was awake). Part of her was beginning to see herself in those deep brown orbs, and Rollah immediately averted her eyes, suddenly uncomfortable. Yeah, she was uncomfortable; she was uncomfortable seeing herself weak and helpless, unable to do anything except stare wide-eyed in a mix of fear and curiosity.
"Here!" One of them said. Rollah looked back at them to see the boy with "41" on his shirt had his arms outstretched. In them was something she thought she wouldn't see for a long, long time. There, in his sweaty little palms, was a real Maple Skanda. A claw constructed of the finest Dark Crystals fused with a delicate blend of melted Steel, Silver, and Adamantium plates, and set with hand-carved Emeralds and DEX Crystals. On the market, it sold for millions. Her mind boggled at the thought. She had never once seen something worth millions. In her sheltered home back on Maple Island, everyone was retired and thus had most or all of their possessions sold to other budding Players who needed them. She had heard them describe rare or strange items, but never saw one with her own eyes. One of them was the Maple Skanda.
"Take it!" The other said, pulling it out his twin brother's hand and shoved it into Rollah's. "I can't stand it anymore!" He shouted, drawing even more attention to them. He screamed at his brother, No. 41, who looked back at him helplessly. "This is all your fault! I told you we shouldn't have taken it!" Tears of anger brimmed his eyes and Rollah realized this was no longer about her, despite the claw now cradled in her arms. In a huff, No.42 ran back toward the portal. No. 41, clearly sadden and apologetic, followed after his brother wordlessly.
All eyes followed them until they disappeared into the portal. Then they darted back to Rollah, who stood dumbfounded. She didn't know what to make of the scene. On the one hand, it was clear that this Maple Skanda did not belong to them…so she should and see if she can find its rightful owner, right? But on the other hand…
Rollah smiled, looking down at the shiny claw sitting in her arm. Well, it was no rock from the sky, but maybe this was the kick start she need; a sign telling her everything was going to be okay. Maybe fate handed this to her to let her know they didn't totally have it in for her. It was a peace offering; a token of their appreciation for being patient with them. If that was the case, then she totally deserved it. She quietly thanked fate for handing this to her; it was probably the first time they had worked to her favor. Rollah grasped the claw in hands, watching it disappear into her inventory.
On the right side of her vision, a window popped open, and inside, the prized Maple Skanda rested. Rollah let out a breath of relief now that she knew it was safe. When she returned to her normal vision, she realized the crowd that had gathered around her. They whispered and starred as she passed like nothing was wrong. Her cheeks flushed pink and the area had gotten a lot warmer all of a sudden. She hated it when people talked like that. If they had something to say, then say it to her face. It bothered her when people suddenly decided someone couldn't take a joke or shouldn't hear something for fear of embarrassing them, so they resort to snipping behind their back. Don't they realize it was that kind of action that usually made people feel more embarrassed and swells their need to cling to their pride?
But the looks and hush-hush conversation didn't stop even when she got to the portal. She wanted to tell them to just shut up, the hot pink tinge on her face that persisted told her it was best to just hold her head high and keep walking. Her moment was over and it was now time to get serious about her plans…or lack thereof. But Rollah wasn't worried. After all, fate was kind enough to send her something worth millions; who's to say they couldn't they send down a big golden arrow pointing her life in the right direction?
Things never go as you plan, do they? Siren was learning that the hard way as she browsed through the real estate listing, referring back to the giant map of the neighborhood when something she could afford caught her eye. Then of course, Siren would find something wrong with the location (noisy company; the neighbor has too many pets; the sun rose in that direction meaning she'd never be able to sleep in) and has to keep searching.
"Will you just make up your mind already?" The land owner, a heavy weight man in blue-jean overalls with a red cap and a lit cigarette caught between fingers, said in annoyance. It was the third day that she had been there looking for a home. Siren had already begun asking herself that question, but her ever keen eye to attention kept from answering.
Surrounding her were others searching for a home as well. However, most of them were in the company of family or friends (or both if they were really pampered enough) helping them with location, negotiating rent, and even moving their stuff in. Siren wasn't as lucky. She was here all by her lonesome. Her parents and her sisters were nowhere to be found, but that wasn't their fault. Siren had never told them she was moving into a campy little mushroom house in Henesys instead of a mountain side home in Perion with wrought iron doors that bolted shut where everyone else in her family lived. That would have defeated the purpose of running away, you see. But at times like this, she really wished she was in the company of her mother and father who were much better that this stuff than her.
"Oh, sorry!" An elbow nudged her in the back side just hard enough to make her look up in annoyance. It was a girl, a mini-axe clutched in her hands. The red head band that rested along her forehead was moist with what Siren could only guess was sweat from being baked under the sun. From it, sprung a wild mess of hair, handfuls bunched together to a point, forming soft spikes that jutted in every direction. When she caught Siren starring, she smiled, but it was more of a polite way of saying, "What the flying Boogie are you looking at?" or "Don't you know it's rude to stare at people even if they look like they got caught in a wind storm or haven't washed their hair in so long it was greasy enough to make spikes that gel was hardly necessary?"
Spiky-head found a spot beside Siren and bent down to read through the listings, using her finger as a pointing device and occasionally straightening up to allow people to pass in the narrow office space. Evidently, she was a lot less picky than her because within minutes of arriving, she waved at the land owner to show her a house that she picked. She seemed very confident and smiled, this time much more sincere, at the owner who led her out toward the house. Now this really rattled her nerves. Siren had been a little less than three days and she had yet to find a place to her liking and some over sensitive Noob arrives and finds a house the day of?
Siren had always thought of herself as a very understanding person; very flexible and willing to change plans whenever trouble arose and doing what was fastest in the long run. However, her fallout with her parents made her realize that perhaps she wasn't as willing to bend to convenience as she liked to believe. However, this really just took the cake.
Or maybe Spiky-head was just as picky but found something to her liking that Siren missed while searching. But according to her sisters, finding someone with similar tastes and attention to details as Siren was like, one in infinity. But she refused to believe that and follow the pair out in a huff of indignation. It was even more crowded outside. The boat from Maple Island had arrived and a load of Beginners flooded the towns eager to get the necessities out of the way. The heat waved also didn't help, making her feel more and more like she was slowing baking in a giant oven.
Siren squeezed her way through the crowds. She could still see them up ahead. The owner pointed at the different houses they passed, throwing his arm over his head and gestured at the rows of mushroom houses to the left of them. Spiky-head nodded; she seemed truly interested to what he had said. The owner had attempted to give Siren similar help but she brushed him off, thinking she could handle something as simple as choosing a house. Now, after three days of looking, she didn't feel so confident anymore.
They finally stopped in front of a brownish mushroom house with creamy white blobby spots, and a sky-blue roof cap decorated with purple polka dots. Was she serious? Siren could already see a million things wrong with her choice. For one thing, it was six-inches shorter than the average house and the sun rose directly across from it, meaning she wouldn't be able to sleep past sunrise. Also, the guy to the right kept two Monkeys that threw bananas peels everywhere and a Dino Boy that was obviously not trained to know where it was appropriate to go the bathroom.
But still, Spiky-head seemed content. Either she didn't know or she didn't care. Siren watched as she handed him a wad of bills than proceed to shake his hand laughing. He said something and she nodded, waving at him. When he passed, he noticed Siren looking at them but passed without a word. Her gaze followed him, feeling a little more miffed than she did before. Was it that kind of thing that made people likable? Was that why her father said she was so disappointing? Why he didn't even seem to care when she said she was leaving?
Siren looked back at Spiky-head, now sitting on the small wooden porch. It was the mark of someone who was very happy where they stood in life…or the mark of someone who was about to get stinkin' rich! Siren barely noticed when her mouth formed a perfectly round 'o'. The only thing she was concerned with was the shiny Maple Skanda, Spiky-head held in her hands. She held it up high, examining it under the sun's abundant rays. She even slipped it on, only to be disappointed to find it was way too large for her skinny arm. Siren scoffed. What did she think was going to happen? Thief claws were huge and molded into the shape of the wearer's arm, but only if that wearer possessed the necessities to do so. And the only way to get that was to become a Thief. Otherwise, she had no use for it other than selling it for a quick profit.
"How did a girl like her get her hands on a thing like that?" One of the guys standing beside said, pointing at the claw in Spiky-head's hands. His profile listed him as a Level 12 Rogue. The standard Garnier quipped to his arm along with his plain white t-shirt and brown shorts made it obvious that all he could do was drool at it; he wouldn't be buying one of those for a long time.
"Oh, careful Precious!" A sickly sweet voice chimed into Siren's left ear. Uhg, what happened to personal space? Well, she supposed it didn't matter when the area was this crowded. Everyone was practically walking shoulder to shoulder. Still, she was about to tell the Pink Beanie off, when a foul odor infested the air. Siren wrinkled her nose, realizing that she's choked on the stench before; that time she had gone out to see some of the homes and that guy's Dino Boy made a number two right beside her –
"Oh, careful Precious!" The smoke colored husky whined as it looked up at Chaunti with its icy blue eyes. She bent down and picked it up in her arms, ruffling its soft fur.
A sound of disgust rippled across the field. It took a moment before Chaunti realized it was the girl right beside her. She was about to inquire as to what the problem was, before she looked down and noticed why Precious had insisted on stopping in the middle of their walk. Chaunti rolled her eyes.
The girl groaned, starring daggers at Chaunti. "Could you please learn to curb your doggy no-no's?" she spat.
Chaunti scoffed in disbelief. "It's a dog," she stated in a clearly condescending tone. "That's what they do! I can't stop that!" Clearly, this blue-haired Archer was not a pet person.
"Well, can't you pick up after it? Train it to go behind a bush or something instead in the middle of the road?" She shouted back.
Chaunti rolled her eyes at the Archer. Well, she could but in her family, that wasn't her job. All she had to do was be the obedient little daughter their parents could show off to their friends. After all, that's why they even bothered having kids. But Chaunti was in no mood to discuss this with an over-reactive stranger. Handing Precious off to Kirsty, who always stood to her right along with Kristy at her left, she pulled out a bottle of Pure Water and poured it over her dog's left over's. It washed away the excrement and cleaned off the bit of the Archer's shoes where Precious had dumped over. "There," she sighed, "happy?"
Chaunti took the Archer's silence and the pink tinge that slowly colored her face as consent to leave. She flipped her soft pink curls over her should as the last condescending message before walking away.
Once they were out of the homelands and in the relative privacy of the Pet Park, Chaunti sank down into a bench. She groaned. The confrontation was not something she needed today. Kirsty handed Precious back to her, but she waved the Husky away. It barked at her, whining and struggling in Kirsty's grasp before finally struggling free. It hopped down at Chaunti's feet, standing on its hind legs and pawing at her skirt. She shooed it down and turned away, not in the mood to put up with it.
To be completely honest, Chaunti never bothered to have the dog trained because she hated it. She too was disgusted by the 'doggy no-no's' and its constant need for attention. The Husky had been a something her mother Eleanor got for her to give as a gift to her fiancée. In their many dinner conversations she had learned he was a dog person, so she got Chaunti the dog to give him for a present. He was thrilled, of course. Even if he was being overly civil and polite, he wasn't lying about the fact that he loved animals. Chaunti watched him scoop up the dog into his arms and cuddle it with complete ease and comfort. She was glad to see he was happy with the dog. He hadn't smiled like that since they were children.
Unfortunately, the downside of the pet became obvious when he was rarely home and she was left alone to take care of it. The little mutt turned out to be more trouble than it was worth. On the outside, she pretended she loved Precious; pretentiousness was an art she'd long perfected over the course of her life; but when she was alone, she couldn't care less what happen to the beady-eyed mongrel.
Chaunti sighed. Kirsty and Kristy had taken Precious for a walk across the training field, so Chaunti was left to enjoy the moment of peace and privacy. In the distance, she heard Precious snarling, probably barring it's manicured teeth at the strangers.
Chaunti squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears. She so did not need this right now! She wondered where her fiancé was; what he was doing that very moment. Whatever it was, Chaunti was sure it was more pleasing than having to listen to a dog throw a temper tantrum.
"Uh, Chaunti!" Kirsty cried in the distance. The snarling still hadn't stopped.
"Help!" That was Kristy, who sounded like she was on the verge of tears. She was always more a cat person.
"Duty calls," she muttered, then proceeded to make her way up the track, where her two joined-at-the-hip friends were frozen out of fear of a Husky whose teeth could barely bite through butter.
Warren dashed up the Forest North of Ellinia. Balance was the key in traveling on the branches that made up the grounds. The leaves crunched softly under his feet as he ran, picking up speed as he went along…until he could hear nothing except the wind whistling in his ear. He kept his eyes shut as he sped along. He didn't have a destination; or rather, he didn't want to. All he wanted to do was run.
Idleness was a freedom he had long been denied in his life. For him, everything was a means to an end. And there was always an end in sight. However, every step he was forced to take toward it, it seemed to slip further and further away. Until it seemed it could never be reached. But they wouldn't stop; they'd sped him along in his life until they reached the end: either perfect happiness which continued to elude him or a crash landing in the middle of a barren desert where his soul would rot away until the sweet release of death.
Who's "they", you ask? They would be his parents. How cliché and predictable, right? Who doesn't have parents they wished they didn't need to deal with? Maybe he was just spoiled that way.
Warren grew up being told he was "special" and much more "unique" than the other children in the city. And because he was so "special" his parents took him away from those children in the city and forced him to sit with a girl they picked out in a mansion that grew on the side of a tall, sturdy tree in Ellinia. They were to chat over Orange Juice and Taffy, but quickly realized they had very little in common other than the fact that they were both from wealthy families with choices being taken away left and right. Warren wasn't even sure he really knew what the word "freedom" meant at the time, yet he was already being stripped of it. Before he knew it, he was in a black tuxedo, stuttering so badly he could barely say his own name, and in the end, just shoved a velvet blue box at the girl, who opened it to find a custom-made engagement ring; silver with a pink LUK Crystal and diamonds around the band.
That very ring was the reason why he was running like a madman through the same forests outside of Ellinia, dealing with people nobody wanted to be caught dead with.
"Warren! Hurry up!" Eero's face appeared in a window to his left. His navy blue eyes gave away the fact that he was practically simmering with anger. Warren tapped the window closed without saying a word. If another fight broke out between them, it could mean expulsion from the guild. And that would mean the end of his life.
He couldn't go back there; back to his family; to his "bride." Their future together was inevitable, but Warren would much rather put it off for as long as possible. It's like if someone was going to break your neck and they gave you a choice: break it right then and there, or give you two weeks to go on the run. Which would you choose? Warren would take anytime he could get his hands on.
He knew his fiancé was secretly pleased; she wanted out of the suffocating marriage just as much as he did. But neither of them were willing to throw in the towel and face a belittling lecture from their parents stressing the importance of the relationship. For Warren it'd be, "A man needs money first, then an attentive wife. Now if that wife already has money…" He couldn't even finish the thought. Warren may still be a kid in the eyes of his parents, but even he had pride, and it could only take so much.
"Warren! We're losin' 'em!" Eero's voice rang in, snapping him out of his tirade. The guy just couldn't take a hint, could he? The last time they fought, things got pretty ugly, pretty quickly. Their red-head Guild Master, Hudson, gave them his signature "get-it-together" look: head down, Steely throwing star in his left hand and his right hand sporting a claw clench into a fist, as he looked up at them through his bangs. His expression would be calm and his eyes betraying no emotion. But that was just the calming before the storm. Then he exploded, ripping into their every wound and weakness, unafraid to stick the proverbial knife where he knew it would hurt. He was ruthless, and while it made him a good leader, it also made him unreasonable, unpredictable, and most importantly, uncontrollable. Even his wife, Lexis, the quintessential trophy spouse with a blond Francesca haircut and thin baby blue eyes, was scarred of his temper, and, according to friends, rarely spoke to him about his work for fear of setting him off.
"Shut up!" Warren finally shouted back at Eero. The Night Walker smirked. He was trying to gauge that reaction from Warren. It was his plan all along to tick him off. But he was thankful for it. He always worked best under pressure. Warren shut the window and kept running. He saw Eero up ahead with Naiser and Dallam. Beside him, Raina, one of the few girls in the guild, ran up to him.
"Don't worry about him." The message appeared on his screen, and he looked over to see her smiling. He could feel her still starring at him as he passed her, running up to Eero, who was slightly shocked to see Warren caught so fast.
"You wanted me to hurry," Warren huffed. In front of them, their targets ran with all their strength, but it was clear their strength was running low. Their speed decreased little by little. Warren used his remaining Mana points to charge up Nimble Feet, a speed-increasing Skill. It gave a momentary boost of energy and his legs moved even faster. He passed Eero with a smirk of his own. As he ran up to their two targets, Warren pulled out a Ligator-skin sack, stretching it open.
"Make sure you don't take their heads off!" It was Naiser, who laughed at his own joke that nobody else found funny. But he was right. If they suddenly increased their speed, Warren did potentially have the strength to snap their necks while trying to secure the sack.
"Then go help him!" It was Eero. That message was probably the first helpful thing Warren had heard him say. Usually, whatever commands he gave out were to benefit himself and his image in front of Hudson, in hopes of a promotion. But this time, he was actually giving the gold star to someone else. It was something he thought he'd never see.
Naiser ran up to him. "What's the plan?" The message read. Well, he may be a bad comedian, but Naiser was a follower who could take orders and stick to strategies.
"Grab 'em by the arms!" Warren huffed out loud. "Then I'll put the bag over his head." Naiser nodded then ran up ahead. "Raina!" The girl pulled out the other sack they had brought along, seeing as there were two targets. "Dallam will grab the other one, and you secure the bag!"
Finally, Warren looked over at Eero, who gave him a submissive glance, signaling that he was ready to take orders. But there was also something accusing in his eyes; like he was saying, if Warren failed, it was all over. And he was probably right.
Hudson did not tolerate failure. This was the first real mission he had been given since he joined the guild. Before, he simply followed along and watched. During one, two of the members failed to accomplish their task. They were promptly carted off by Hudson's brothers Damarion and Remedy, a beefy Crusader with a Dusk Raven's Wing and a tall, skinny Dragon Knight with a Heavenly Messenger Polearm whose physical appearance, contrary to the name of his weapon, reminded Warren of the Grim Reaper. Expulsion wasn't enough as Hudson was extremely fearful of anyone finding out about his various "business ventures". It was probably the only thing in the world he was afraid of as Warren could not the Hermit being intimidated by anything else. Thus, failure (or worse, betrayal) resulted in "severe punishment," as described by Raina, which Warren thought was most likely code for "death." But he couldn't have the fear of failing impede his senses. All he could do was succeed…at all costs.
Warren pointed to the right of them. "There's a hidden portal by the clump of leaves up there! Use it to get ahead! Run back down and cut them off, and help the other hold 'em down while Raina and I catch up!" Eero nodded, then promptly disappeared into the portal.
"You sure this'll work?" Raina shouted. The wind that whistled in his ear made it difficult for him to even hear anything, but he smiled back reassuringly.
"Trust me!" He shouted.
"I do," Raina replied. "But I'm just worried that – "
"There they are!" Their conversation was cut short. Up ahead, the rest of their expedition stood with No. 41 and 42 in their iron grasp. They struggled, but it was no use. They were Beginners and Warren and his gang were Assassins and Bandits in harsh training. Warren and Raina ran up and pulled the bags over them before they had a good look at their kidnappers.
Eero picked up both of them by the arms and legs and tossed them into a crate. Sealing it shut, it promptly disappeared into his inventory. "Let's go," he said. He patted Warren on the shoulder and flashed him a proud smile as he passed.
Raina laughed. "You did it," she said, grinning. "Come on." She took Warren by the arm, leading him along. "Hudson's going to be so proud of you. You're his protégé; the one he handpicked to train alongside him. He'll be thrilled to see he made the right choice."
It was a big compliment. One that nearly everyone in his guild strived to obtain. Their leader was unusually fickle about what he considered a success and to be declared one was the highest honor you could achieve. So…why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he beaming with pride like he thought he would? Or at the very least, breathing a sigh of relief that he would live to see another day. Warren wasn't sure, but something deep inside him churned uncomfortably. Was it guilt? It couldn't be. Warren chose this route for himself. He wanted to be in something risqué just to get away from the normality and confines of his life. He had no right to get cold feet just when things were looking up. He should have been thrilled to be accepted and to fit in and be successful at it… Warren heaved a sigh. Yeah, that's everything he should have been…but in the end, all he could think about what how this was all going to crash down around their ears. And Warren wasn't sure he could save it…or himself.
The golden arrow never showed up. Rollah spent day wandering the island (and nearly got mauled by a heard of Ribbon Pigs in Kerning Middle Forest), but found nothing that truly grabbed her interest. By the end, she was ready to consider being a Rogue because the expensive weapon was getting anxious sitting in her inventory. Perhaps the Maple Skanda wasn't just a gift from fate, but also a sign that being a Thief was the way to go. After all, what else would she do with the claw besides sell it?
But at the same time, something about it just…didn't feel right. Thieves, by nature, lived in the shadows, preferring solitude and discretion. Thieves did not expose themselves and had only an extremely tight-knit group of friends and didn't associate with strangers. Rollah had passed several while traveling the towns; Rogues, Assassins, Bandits, Night Walkers, and even a few Hermits. But all of them kept their eyes down or concentrating sharply at something and didn't speak. She heard people describe them as "unfriendly," another reason Rollah felt she might fit in well with them. But…but she didn't wanna be unfriendly! She wanted to talk to people and come off as sweet and gentle! She didn't wanna be called cold or emotionless. All Rollah wanted was to make a good impression on people. And…
Rollah pulled out the Maple Skanda from the inventory. She found a seat by a bale of hay in Henesys Train Ground I, pulling her feet up to avoid the Snails and Shrooms. She sighed. The claw proved to be little help. On the one hand, it presented her with a totally plausible option, one she should consider taking. But on the other hand, if the option just…didn't feel right… what should she do?
"Ouch!" Something pointy had collided with the backside of her head. Rubbing the sore spot, Rollah turned her head around to see who had hit her.
"Sorry!"
A nobody; he was weak; a Level 10 Archer probably just advanced. In his sweaty little palms was a shiny, blue War Bow and strapped to his back was a quiver of arrows. Rollah looked down to see one had fallen on the bale behind her. So that's what hit her. Picking it up, she held right under the sun. The finely carved, sharp metallic point glimmered under its rays of light.
"You want this back?" Rollah shouted at him, holding the single arrow up in the air.
The kid looked confused for a moment. "N-no," he stammered, "it's okay." He looked contemplative for a moment, probably wondering why in the world Rollah thought he would want a single arrow back when he had thousands sitting idly in his quiver. Well, it's his loss.
Smiling, Rollah ran her fingers up and down the smooth shaft of the pointer, enjoying how the shiny wood felt in her fingers. Then she began laughing; a big throaty laugh that erupted out of her seemingly from nowhere. Players stopped their activities for a moment to stare at her like she'd lost her mind, when in fact it seems she had found it. No, it didn't hit her like a rock from the sky; nor was the arrow big and golden that she just couldn't miss it. But it was still a sign. And it seemed this sign was much better fit than her last one. This suggestion might actually work out.