Author's Note: Been a long time since I wrote a story, hm? I decided to start writing stories of my scholar and my friend's minstrel (with another friend's high priest in it sometimes). These are mostly written for practice because I've been tasked with writing something I don't have experience with. . . and I mostly took a break over the summer, so now I'm writing these to get back into the groove of things.
Pretty much all these stories have malexmale to it, whether it be kind of soft, or a bit. . . more. So, read at your own risk. Also, all these stories are oneshots and will be compiled here.
One more thing; I'm participating in NaNoWriMo this year and plan to write a Ragnarok Online-related story, for fun.
Anyway, enjoy the first story, which may or may not be based on partially-true experiences and tendencies.
The soft fur felt warm in his hands as he grasped and tugged on it.
"Will you please stop for just one moment?" he cried, panting slightly. It was hard enough chasing after this seemingly-hyperactive scholar, trying to keep him alive in the midst of the aggressive, if immobile, monsters. It was even harder to get him to stop.
"But why?" his partner, the scholar, replied. "We're on a roll here. Plus, the faster we finish this, the faster we can get out of here, right?"
"True, but you're going faster than those Arclouze we encountered back in Ant Hell! And those nearly killed us!"
The scholar's partner was a minstrel, player of ballads; essentially a musician.
"Don't worry, we've got this." Despite how often the scholar got hurt, sometimes almost fatally, he never seemed to have any regard for his own health and safety, oftentimes leaving that job to the poor minstrel.
"The last time you said that, we nearly got raped by those Hydras, you especially," the minstrel grumbled.
The scholar tried his best to remember which time that was, since the duo often ran into Hydras and Hydra-lookalikes, such as Penomenas.
"Oh, you mean waaaaay back in the sunken ship?" the scholar offered. "Yeah, that was fun."
"'Fun'? You call 'nearly getting raped to death' fun?" The minstrel shook his guitar at the scholar, who just stared at the waving instrument. "You were the one who seemed to be enjoying it."
"'Cause I was." The scholar then turned around and shot out a set of ten bolts of ice at the molten blob of goo, a Magmaring, which then proceeded to slowly chase after the scholar, who ran as he began to prepare another set of bolts to send at the Magmaring.
The minstrel sighed, both at the scholar's reply and knowing that this could go on forever and a half. So, holding the instrument correctly, the minstrel began to play a tune, adding a bit of an electrical tone to a song normally played with a violin. Or a harp and a bow.
As he played, the surrounding area began to glow a soft blue color as sharp, yet soft lights a blue lighter than the glow began to appear. As they took the shapes of various musical symbols. The minstrel hummed softly to the music that played as the melody rang out.
For awhile, the minstrel was entranced in his own music. Entranced until a certain magic user ran into him, that is. The two fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
"Oh, get off me!" the minstrel yelled. "And didn't I tell you to watch where you're going?" With an effort and a grunt, the minstrel managed to shove the scholar off off of him.
"Being chased, can't talk now!" the scholar responded before he got up and continued running, five gelatinous blobs of magma (or was it lava?) chased after the scholar.
"I told him not to do that." Sighing, the minstrel gave up on the song and pulled out some arrows, then proceeded to chase after the scholar.
I need to buy more arrows, the minstrel thought as he ran, his cape flapping in the wind behind him like a flag.
Luckily, the Magmarings weren't terribly fast, so all that was needed to be done was to prepare the attack, and quickly.
Setting an arrow on his guitar, he took aim at one of the Magmarings, and with a little bit of magic, the minstrel shot out nine arrows at the blob, instantly killing it. The scholar had probably weakened it before he was chased by it.
Thinking about it, the scholar probably hit all of them with a ten-bolt Cold Bolt, but if he had enough time to pause long enough to hit a Magmaring with that, then why would he hit one only once?
"He just enjoys this, that son of a masochist," the minstrel grumbled under his breath as he set another arrows onto his guitar.
For a split second, the minstrel considered shooting the Arrow Vulcan at the scholar instead, but he dismissed the thought immediately. Unless in a special castle or area, killing another person was strictly forbidden and, if found out, was punishable by death. Not like the minstrel would want to kill his partner anyway.
So instead, the next three Magmarings were the targets of the powerful Arrow Vulcan, and like the minstrel predicted, they all died from one shot due to the scholar not bothering to finish them off.
Just before the minstrel could finish off the last Magmaring, however, he noticed something bad pop up from the ground; a Drosera.
Oh crap, no. Why now? he thought.
Droseras, an odd, health-absorbing plant, were the scholar's worst enemy. The plants had a very long range, and even if the scholar had gotten far enough to cast a strong spell at it, he usually ended up back within the plant's range. Not only could the plant attack fast, it could attack hard enough to knock the scholar over, thus rendering him helpless to the plant's merciless attacks.
"There's a Drosera!" the minstrel cried out, which actually got the scholar to stop. However, the warning also caused the scholar to start backing up, right into the Magmaring he forgot was chasing him.
Finally caught up to its attacker, the Magmaring lunged at the scholar's leg.
Normally, if it was a regular Poring-type monster, minus the powerful Ghostring and its cousins and the Stapo, it wouldn't have been terribly bad. However, as obvious from its name, the Magmaring was covered in magma. Or lava.
The Magmaring made contact with the scholar, which immediately set his pant leg on fire.
"Ow, hot hot hot!" the scholar cried out as he tried to both run and put out the fire at the same time. Of course, this proved to be not such a good idea as he ran right into range of the Drosera, which began its long-ranged attacks once it sensed a victim.
First things first; the minstrel finished off the Magmaring before it could attack the scholar anymore. Next, he quickly finished off the Drosera, which went down quickly. Finally, the minstrel turned his attention to the scholar, who was now on the ground.
"Okay, get up and let's get out," the minstrel said as he slapped the scholar on the face. However, there was no response.
"Come on, get up." There was a slight tinge of worry in his voice. Hopefully, his partner was just playing.
However, when he did a closer check of the scholar, he noticed the blood that flowed from various wounds, and the burn on his leg.
Officially worried now, the minstrel checked to make sure his partner was still breathing before he picked up the scholar in his arms.
You're so thin, yet so heavy. Are you carrying shackles on you or something? the minstrel thought. He thought he heard the clink of metal in response.
For some reason, the minstrel felt a tinge of apprehension, which caused him to look around. When there was no one to be seen, he let out a small sigh before he began making his way towards Rachel, where the duo was staying as they trained.
After a few mishaps with some Roweens, Gallions and more Droseras, the minstrel finally made it back to Rachel.
It seemed almost like a miracle that he made it back with his partner with almost no harm done. During the entire journey, though, the minstrel was afraid his partner would lose his life. The minstrel even remembered that it wasn't best to move someone who was injured, but what choice did he have? Just pray to Odin that a priest would pass through by chance? He couldn't risk the wait. Besides, the night was falling and most people would be finding shelter at that time.
After trudging up the stairs and entering their rented room, the minstrel set the scholar down on the plush bed. Now the minstrel had to decide which to examine first, the blood wounds or the burns. He decided to settle on checking the burn first, since the blood had stopped flowing.
Before he could even check the burn, the minstrel realized he had to remove the scholar's pants first, something that made the minstrel a little embarrassed about.
Surprisingly, the pants weren't really that burned, which seemed a bit odd. Didn't the Magmaring hit the leg dead-on?
Before he realized what had happened, the minstrel felt a weight slam into him, knocking him onto his back. The weight pressed on top of him, a bit awkwardly, the position just as awkard.
"Wha-" the minstrel started before he realized what had happened.
His partner had tackled him.
"G-Get off me!" the minstrel cried. "I mean. . . Are you all right?"
"I have. . . fire armor on," the scholar responded.
"What?" So the minstrel had worried for nothing?
"But that Drosera wasn't fun," the scholar mumbled, seemingly ready to fall back into unconsciousness.
"W-Wait, please don't faint on me again." The minstrel tried to prop up the scholar so his face could be seen. "How hurt are you?"
"Mm," was the only reply before the scholar seemed to just collapse again. With his voice muffled in the minstrel's clothes, he said something that sounded like, "I'm fine, quit worrying."
"You're so reckless, now get off." The minstrel tried to shove his partner off him, but to no avail. It seemed like the scholar was trying to cling to him. "Will you let go?"
"I dun wanna," the scholar said, in almost a whiny voice. "You're sooooooo warm." He then proceeded to bury his face in the minstrel's hair.
"G-Get off!" the minstrel cried, a bit nervously. What was the scholar doing?
"But. . . I don't want to. I want to. . ." The scholar trailed off as he lifted his head up so he could look at his partner in the eyes. The minstrel's eyes were such a lovely blue color, much like the blue gems the scholar sometimes played with.
As his forehead pressed against the minstrel's, who seemed to be getting a bit flustered now, the scholar whispered something so inaudible, his partner couldn't hear.
And then he kissed him.