A/N: Demon Slayer, where dreams come to life!
NetherOrbit: Oh, did you assume Asuna cared? :3
Doctor: Who gave this guy inter-dimensional travel? Coulda sworn, I threw him somewhere else...
Taiyama, Aigen, and Yuse belong to my friend Den3424 from Spear At My Side, check it out sometime!
Enjoy!
[Juggernaut] is a [Unique Skill] for those who invest sixty percent of their stats into [Strength]. Perfect for a total meathead, it comes with a variety of skills for punching, breaking, and otherwise hurting others like a brute. Not sure why Godfree looks to this so warmly.
There're more skills than what I'm listing here, foo. Just giving you all an idea.
[Staggering]: Every hit delivered has a chance of doing as it says on the can. This in itself is modified based on what you're using (cause using a dagger and expecting to home run a giant is idiotic), as well as your opponent.
[Violent Courage]: A passive AoE perimeter is placed by you. For enemies caught in that circle when such is active, you get a plus percentage of damage on them. Same time though, you suffer a near equivalent reduction to your defense.
My advice? Be cool like Ki-bou, pick [Dual Wielding].
- Argo, Beta Tester's Survival Guide, February 11th, 2023
November 13th, 2022
Diavel was escorted forcefully, his retinue of armored personnel closely marching around him as they left Tolbana's gardened streets. While no brute force was exerted outside of town, potential for such kept Diavel from displaying greater acts of defiance. Back to golden fields and cobbled stone, he avoided eye contact.
"Been seeing these humans play this game with cards, they call it...poker?" one guard mumbled. "Won't lie, looked pretty fun."
"Oh no!" another chuckled. "Better not tell the Cogitant, he'd think it's witchcraft!"
This sarcastic watchman elbowed Diavel.
"You, you know what this poker is?"
"It's a card game, a gambling deal...and no it's not magic based."
"See?" the elf looked back to his comrades. "Not everything that's different is witchcraft, only most of it."
"Ah eat a [Swordfish] why don't ya?" one griped. "You might not get a glass."
"Doesn't it leave you curious though? Like what it tastes like? Mean their water's great, why not that?"
"When it'd curse the whole town, I don't even think of it."
Friendly dialogue between guards left Diavel less tense, his posture collapsing..
"I don't understand, when have there been taxes?" Diavel fretted. "We haven't been given any warning."
With faces partially hidden by round copper helmets, they looked to him with little expression.
"Ignorance of the law doesn't excuse breaking it." one dismissed. "Besides, we already heard plenty from you, talking about dethroning Ilioc."
His eyes widened, they were listening in to their conversations.
"Course that's a threat to the leader of this entire coastline...punishable by death if I'm not mistaken. Then again...you humans have been causing us plenty of trouble. Why don't we save ourselves the trip and-"
"Don't." another warned. "Trouble or not, we have laws. Ilioc said no, so we don't do it."
Diavel remained silent, refusing to even nudge his armed escorts. Meanwhile, a band of individuals gathered in Tolbana's amphitheater, Kibaou and Lind discussing as a majority of assault team applicants stood around, grimacing and shrugging.
"So what now?" Kibaou splayed limp hands. "Doing anything drastic's gonna get everyone else punished."
"Clearly we have to play it by their game...or at least see their game first." Lind circled around the stouter figure, feeling his own face. "Ugh I need a coffee...haven't had one in days and it's killing me!"
Lind and Kibaou were soon overshadowed by a lone figure, greater in size than both of them. A man of notable girth, with a thick beard and a hearty smile easy for all to see. With a [Battleaxe] slung, his beady brown eyes looked down to both leaders, amiable in expression.
"And you are?" Lind blinked, too bogged down with the loss of coffee to bother.
"Godfree." the man bowed slightly.
"Oh hey, you're the lore guy." Kibaou lightened his mood. "Yea, we need Diavel freed asap, as he's the most experienced with planning this stuff."
Having overheard their plan, Oran approached, a straight faced and tense shouldered Graye in tow.
"We could've got a friend." Graye griped.
"Wouldn't have liked him anyway." Oran deflected. "I...I need a minute."
Reaching Godfree, his lanky figure forced a smile.
"Yo, mind if we join ya?" Oran said. "We got decent rep, if that helps."
Graye peddled up beside his friend, observing carefully.
"May we? We wanna help Diavel."
Looking to both of them, Godfree's smile widened, sticking a hand out.
"A chance at company?" Godfree grinned. "Thou art brave men, I accept."
"Why do you talk like that?" Graye questioned softly. "Sounds like Shakespeare."
"One mustn't let dreary air sit, no? In our predicament, mirth's direly needed!"
"Eh, works for me." Oran shrugged, Graye's posture perking.
"Excellent, surely Lady Argo will find favor in thee. Art thou ready to uh, go?"
Godfree scratched his head, trying to conceive of a better word to conclude with. Oran paused in his statement, wanting to hear what revision he had in mind.
"Correction, embark!"
"There we go." Oran cheered. "Was wondering. And yea, I'm good."
"Same." Graye smiled.
Their trip back to Starting Town was quicker than Diavel's, each of the three possessing [Teleport Scrolls]. Returned to familiar pavement, they sought out their info seeker, ocean waves lapping against southern docks. Such wasn't difficult, however, as news of Diavel's arrest quickly reached her ears. Sliding out from an alley, a green hooded sneak rested her back on a building.
"Ooo, Diavel's such a bad boy." Argo smirked, pacing around Godfree like a cat for a brief moment. "Okay in all seriousness, what gives Go-fe?"
"Beats us, that's why we're back here." Oran shrugged, eyeing what ample feminine charm Argo put out.
Damn, she's got ass.
"It is to our best knowledge that taxes were ignored." Godfree cleared his throat. "Was thou informed of such?"
"Nopers." she furrowed her eyebrows. "Thought Governor Ilioc liked him though."
"Mind coming with us, thy skill may prove useful." Godfree motioned towards himself.
"Psh, Go-fe you'd have to ask me to stay away." she laughed, poking his shoulder as she circled around. "Black Iron?"
"Forsooth!"
Walking by, a group of players unfamiliar to them were arguing.
"I'm sorry Anthem, but it's not worth it. We could be joining that Assault Team right now, hell maybe join up with a guild."
"And leave my brother's death in vain?" the black hatted male decried. "Look, we can abuse the [Mercenary] system, get ourselves like ten or fifteen guys and finish it."
"Nah man, those mercs cost money...and I need a new [Halberd]. Look, your bro did the exact same shit you're doing. I don't wanna kill anyone, not when we gotta get together."
None of Anthem's friends spoke in his defense, tears welling up with acknowledging such.
"Fine, I'll do it myself." he turned. "May I have at least a hundred? I gotta respect my brother...I can't give up."
His friends sighed, the four remaining of his group yielding. Anthem took it hesitantly, looking with a depressed gaze at his friends.
"Dad always called me a pussy, saying how I wouldn't stand up for anything. I told you guys. I-I can't drop this, not right now."
"Dude, even you sound unsure. Look, long as the monkey stays away then we don't have a problem. This drama needs to stop."
"F-Fine." Anthem swept both hands. "One last time...he'll get his anyway."
Argo and her group arrived at Black Iron Palace, glaze eyed [Town Guards] letting them through without issue. Wandering through populated, vaulted halls of ceramic and stone, Argo and Oran were most watchful, their eyes slowly scanning, ears alerted.
"Don't talk much." Argo glanced back, green eyes lit. "They like eavesdropping."
"Do Mom jokes count?" Oran took in Black Iron's layers of stone defenses, stairwells covered with battlements.
"Only about yours. Are you British by the way?"
"English, yes."
"Mm, love your accent. What's your name?"
"Oran."
"Hm." Argo rubbed her neck with slender arms. "Name for you..."
East of Black Iron's foyer resided an office leading to its prison. Approaching, Argo's group found its warden speaking to some nobles in hushed voices. Argo waved to her allies, cupping an ear for a moment to activate [Listening] skill.
"-to keep things as they are."
Meanwhile Oran glazed over Argo, Graye elbowing him abruptly, rolling his eyes.
"Hey." Oran whispered.
"I oughta stick your wank down a doorknob." Graye groaned.
Godfree kept to himself, dusting his shirt. An end to the warden's conversation brought little reward for Argo, whose glance only found an impressed Oran looking her way. Flicking her blonde hair back she passed him and went straight to Godfree.
"Nothing, Go-fe. Didn't check 'em early enough."
Godfree stroked his beard, the nobleman in question walking past them. Soon as he left earshot, however, his gaze fixated on his much shorter comrade.
"Follow him."
Set to stalking, Argo quickly vanished, activating [Sneak] skill. He pursued the warden, who looked to him with suspicion, guards watching.
"I hear Diavel's been imprisoned, may I ask for his charge?" Godfree bowed his head slightly.
"Yes, let me see."
A notebook of records was drawn from his desk, the warden halting at one page. "Tax evasion, signed by a mister Aimar of Black Iron Palace. May I ask why you're so curious?"
"The tax code, of course. Thou must possess a copy somewhere, correct?"
"That'll be in the west wing."
Oran pursed his lips, eyebrows lowered, hearing a soft, gravelly tone from Black Iron's warden. Walking, he focused attention to Godfree, who kept up a passive grin.
"Yo, I'm not liking the look of this." Oran said. "Bobby's way too stiff."
A shrug was Godfree's reply, brown eyes reflecting.
"Thou mustn't hold paranoia so closely. Argo said herself, Governor Ilioc's on our side."
Pursuing, Argo's target left Black Iron Palace, walking with three others of similar status towards the southern end of town. Keeping several meters of distance, an assorted and random pattern of alleys prevented her from being easily spotted. With [Listening] reactivated, her focus was divided only to conceal.
"A good Boar hunt would be nice. Office's feeling so stuffy, can't even leave without fear of being attacked."
"Personally I think Ilioc's gotten too soft, it's ruining our business to have these 'humans' staying and breaking our laws without care. We paid for renovating this place, yet he seems almost dismissive."
A quill jotted down everything Argo heard, her hands furious in putting down such notes.
Seems these guys invested quite a bit in here, but why not the [Waytalon Trading Company] building? That's still made of wood, guess somebody's not quite in the club.
Conversation filled with meaningless gab, their inattentiveness enabling Argo to witness the gathering site for these affiliated agents. A lowly, wide building of similar foundation to its bleached stone neighbors. On its front porch read 'The Committee of Agriculture', its presence lacking the Church of Cel's ostentatious stature.
Wait, why the hell's this a matter of agriculture? Our plan has nothing to do with farming anything past monsters. Wait, unless...
Sneaking to a windowless corner relieved Argo of detection, sliding herself to the nearest glass panel before peering through. While hearing wasn't possible, sights of gambeson clad guards provided plenty of suggestion. With bags of jingling metal passed across desks, her green eyes darted down.
So they've got the guards of town...interesting. Wait, that's why they're okay with letting bandits buy off their stuff, they work for the Committee, not Waytalon. If they've got such deep influence though...Godfree.
Leaping away, Argo couldn't run faster towards Black Iron Palace, alerted by information gained.
Venturing through the west wing left Godfree and his wingmen submerged in a mess of desks, quills, and paper. NPCs walked back and forth, filling space with their cargo of script and tax. Graye sat on a bench, boredom overpowering as he leaned back against an iron wall.
Might as well be sitting in a waiting room without an appointment. Bet my boyfriend's just having a good ole time too. Partying...flirting.
His cheeks glistened a bit, forcing Graye to avert attention to a book in his storage. [Basic Medicine], reading such boosted his [Healing] ability every time he answered questions correctly. Fifteen minutes passed before Godfree and Oran finally reached an open desk, both towering figures brisk to converge.
"We're looking for a mister Aimar?" Godfree kept cordial.
The elf looked up at him with a lifeless, dull expression. A quick glance over his shoulder, however, brought a tenser stance, leaning on his wooden surface, eyes on Godfree. With fingers gripping its edge, Oran shifted back.
"I'm sorry sir, but Aimar's very busy. Perhaps we can schedule an appointment?"
Godfree paused, brown eyes observant to Black Iron's busy quarters.
"Yes, please."
"Very good, may I have a name?"
"Godfree."
Oran stepped away slightly.
"How about in an hour?" the clerk drew papers. "Sound good?"
Oran's deep blue eyes caught on to a stir where they resided, air getting heavy in his lungs. Amiss was a factor his mind couldn't see, but instinct knew its existence, turning him back to his book reading friend.
"Graye? Let's have lunch, on me."
"You sure?" Graye tilted his head, book closed.
"Godfree, want anything?" Oran glanced back before looking to Graye. "Ya."
"[Triobster Tail] please?" Godfree called.
Oran and Graye hurried out, Graye left with heat welling up in his chest, stopping Oran as they turned west just outside Black Iron's door.
"That was very rude, Oran. Why didn't you invite Godfree?"
"Hang on."
They kept walking, Graye's English friend eager to separate from Starting Town's dark metal capital, stopping only after traveling several blocks away.
"Dude." Graye crossed arms.
Wiping his brow, Oran turned back.
"You ever watched any crime films?"
"Ya? How does that have anything to do with inviting friends for lunch?"
"I'm telling ya, that place reeks of a set up."
Graye stopped, arms loosening.
"None of those wankers were being real. You see how they looked at us?"
"No?"
"Ah, of course not. You're Irish."
A slight, toothless grin left Graye facepalming.
"I can't believe you can joke right now."
Looking over from his great height, Oran spotted Argo on her way to Black Iron.
"Yo, Argo!"
A swift change of direction brought her within talking range, twisting hair around a finger.
"You figured it out too?" Argo said.
"I found out nothing, was just instinct."
"These guards?" Argo nodded around them. "They're working for this committee, a powerful force here. There's no way they're gonna like us snoop-"
"ping-as usual I see?" Oran's face immediately turned smug.
Argo immediately caught on to Oran;s phallic joke, nearly punching his arm.
"Dork!"
Graye's face reddened, hiding it behind a hand.
"Anyway, we should tell Ilioc." Argo crossed her arms. "Diavel's got good rep, that'll piss him off."
"With how much they've invested? Who says he ain't with them?" Oran debated. "Think we should do some homework on this group."
A stranger overheard, emerging from another alleyway.
"You three."
Oran and Argo quickly ceased discussion, eyes diverted to a red cloaked elf.
"The Church of Cel has given a gracious invitation. My lord Cogitant wishes to speak to you."
A clockwork cathedral of high-rise coil towers. Led inside, a winding escalator of rails and wheels rocketed them up its central keep, demanding its passengers to stand on its shoe indented wheels, a brass network lifting all three much like an escalator.
"You guys got one of these leading down?" Oran grinned.
"Course we do, why?" their escort said.
"One sec!"
Hurrying up the smooth escalator, Oran raced through its pinnacle office. Without a greeting, Oran ran out another door, laying down on a declining system, sliding down a set of smoothed wheels leading down.
"Worth it!"
Graye witnessed this with a bemused smile, following in Oran's method along, Argo remaining cross.
"Guys, you serious? Godfree's in trouble, Diavel needs saving!"
"You're interrupting our sermon!" a priest below said.
"Too fun!" Oran chuckled, sliding down again before finally calling quits.
While some sitting among pews showed derision, mild curiosity was also as easy to see. Nonetheless, a meeting was arranged with an elf wearing gyroscopic goggles, forcing Argo to resist chuckling. Rising from his chair, a hand raised over his head, his other horizontal, forming an 'L'.
"Cel be with you, I am Cogitant Yole. I heard you're troubled, ungeared."
Oran's joy drained.
Ughhhhh I hate preachy people.
Graye's rose.
I miss church.
"Yes, a friend of ours has been put in jail without trial." Graye said. "Please, we need him freed."
"Both of them now." Argo grimaced, examining her friends list. "Godfree's and Diavel."
Yole grinned softly, fingers interlocked.
"Deus Cel is omnipresent, ungeared. He will make things right."
Sun Dancer
Tolbana - 3:03 PM
Lind and Kibaou leaned on a building, eyes diverting in narrowed observance.
"What if we can't get Diavel out?" Lind said.
"We move on, least enough to secure a foot-"
An uproar was heard, westward cries escaping, shrieks of inhuman origin mixing with panicked shouts. Both men shook awake, racing out with weapons drawn. People fled from Tolbana's west wing, NPCs crying in despair as a single, consistent call was heard.
"Bascogne, L'gtha ng'miya!"
"Raiders!" [Town Guards] yelled, rushing in with chainmail lifting, [Halberds] gripped. "Man the gates!"
Kibaou drew a bronze [Khopesh], a crescent shaped Egyptian blade, Lind a [Rapier], laying sight on a gate muddled in blood, sparks of a frenzied skirmish erupting. Before them laid a mess of red and almond, of [Crazed Kobolds], their brutalized flesh flaps sharp in daylight, their crude weapons sharper, crashing against limbs, severing parts, delighting glowing yellow eyes.
Some players rushed in, only to be repelled, sent bouncing and reeling from simple tackles, scrambling as others were pounced and bitten. Axes flew down, hooking over shields, canoeing unfortunate defenders, assaulters rushing by numbers over six dozen. Hammers broke bones, spears impaled, glass flying, a mix of blue, green, and red scattering in all directions.
"We don't have enough men!"
"Every man for himself!" a player ran.
"Back here!" Kibaou roared, voice hoarse as he waved other players to converge. "Defend the gate! Where're the friggin tanks?!"
One assault team applicant charged, towering over most, touting [Wooden Tower Shield] and Japanese [Spear], rushing in shield first. His shield thumped, repelling a few charging Kobolds. Standing over six feet, this tank was known as Taiyama.
"Back me up, you idiots!" he yelled.
[Crazed Kobolds] forced him to brace, unable to strike from their sheer volume of attacks. Axeheads chewed through, splinters and dust scattering, chips of Tai's shield flying as others rushed to relieve. Two of his friends, Aigen jumped behind Tai, Aigen's Japanese [Ninjato] jamming around his friend's barrier.
"Where's Asuna, huh!?" Aigen roared.
"She wanted to go shopping, stay focused!"
"L'thgna, ng'miya!"
Aigen shoved flanking kobolds with muscular arms, other players rushing in, jamming marauders as they lunged in. Yule sent arrows flying, one of them only managing to strike Tai's shield.
"Bro, you for real?!" Tai pushed back, his [Tower Shield] thumping with every hit.
"Sorry, still practicing!" Yuse jumped back, priming another round.
Lind rushed left, warding off a few would-be flankers with a [Rapier's] flick, a thin blade swishing past rodent snouts.
"We need more tanks!" Lind said. "Got maybe three at best!"
Another group of players arrived, Kibaou waving them over.
"Shields, move up! Where're the healers?!"
Tanks formed up beside Taiyama, whose stamina failed a moment later, a [Crazed Kobold] kicking him down, fatigued and gasping. Aigen rushed in, a hasty stab glancing the beast, forcing him back in sudden pain. His black haired, lean friend got up, Yule sending more arrows, some hitting their targets.
Reinforcements arrived, lining up to form a shield wall. Problem was, none of their shields matched, each varying in shape and design. Stray stabs by spear caught legs, arms, painless but withering in their cumulative wounding, blood spilling as they desperately flung back [Arming Swords] and [Maces]. Kobolds leaped through weakpoints, biting and clawing where weapons failed to wound, squealing at a red orchestra.
"Goddammit, where're the healers?" Kibaou pulled Lind away, backing up as tanks started dropping. "Did no one seriously pick healer?!"
"Being a healer sucks though!" one cried out.
"It's not as bad as dying, you fuck!"
[Town Guards] screamed, blood's spray of red dulled by sparks, players wielding bows ascending single story buildings and walls for overarching fire. Sadly, the invading force had a rear line of their own, firing immediately upon them. Archers crashed below, torsos riddled with arrows, desperate as they drew potions.
"I'm pinned down!"
"Oh damn, I'm still breathin'!"
"Kibaou!" Lind said.
Glass shattered, tanks collapsing in disfigured heaps, crying out as defense yielded. Taiyama rushed forward, impaling whatever broke through, ripping back before jamming it in another. Aigen chopped, hacking off hands, bashed back by rusted [Warhammers] as their first line fell.
"Medic!"
Kibaou stepped back, almost frozen in shock, pale stone darkened by a battlefield's palette, a canvas forming between tile slits.
This isn't working, we're losing men quickly. Wait...a flanking maneuver.
Hearing panic from across town, Asuna swept in with dust cloud forming speed, [Rapier] ready as she passed Kibaou. With a grinding halt she nearly dropped her weapon, hazel eyes widened to a festival of sparks.
"Oh..." she said.
"Asuna!" Kibaou waved. "South gate! On me!"
Kirito ran past them both, [Anneal Blade] in right hand. Leaping into battle, he swept a throat, stabbing another, drawing and crippling a third with a leg strike, all in a span of seconds. Kibaou addressed him, but to no avail, instead raising the attention of a few dozen more players, directing them south.
"Where're you going?!" Lind cried out, unaware of Kibaou's plan. "Cowards!"
Taiyama's row of tanks fell away, [Crazed Kobolds] exploding out into Tolbana's streets on scampering feet, flanking and carving stragglers to death in a frenzied rush. What started in red, had evolved to blue and green, human and elf forced into retreat.
"Aigen, fall back!" Tai shouted. "Cover Yuse!"
"Bascogne, L'gtha ng'miya!"
Kibaou and Asuna raced outside, their two dozen fighters following close behind.
"DPS guys, on her!" Kibaou roared. "Asuna, those archers have to go. They're keeping ours from sticking their heads out!"
"Got it!"
Dividing their forces, a pincer shape was formed, following Tolbana's stone walls closely in fear of fire. Their approach was swift, both parties spotting a Kobold archery line in plain sight, standing by with arrows ready, eyes turning to them.
"Dammit, any shields?!"
"We can dodge, you know!" someone shrieked.
Kobold arrows flew in mass, but could only focus on one side, aiming east in panic of an incoming mob. Asuna's [Rapier] punched through one's back, scoring a [Sneak Attack Critical], archers screeching for help as they drew [Clubs]. Players packed in, forgetting their lack of defense, drunk with a thirst for retaliation. Repaid with shattered craniums of their less fortunate, many backed away.
"Don't tank them, guys!" Kibaou spat.
Lind and Taiyama held out in a local home within Tolbana, the latter's shield crumbling as it held back just a few more axes.
"I told him to regroup!" Tai growled, drawing back his Japanese [Spear]. "Guess that's too complex for that gorilla!"
A hole cracked open in his shield, undisciplined masses of [Crazed Kobolds] clawing through, their shouts monolithic in their approach.
Sun Dancer
- Garr
A single swerve sent my [Siege Blade] flying high and right, Kuradeel leaning away as it brushed air. Striking snow, all seven feet sent me pitching with a soft puff, regaining balance. A firm chest poke signified what would've been my death, his [Greatsword] landing clean between my pecs.
"Too choreographed, you left your guard vide open." Kuradeel stepped back. "Could predict your move yesterday. Vatch carefully."
Kuradeel held his weapon high and to his left, handguard nearly at his jaw in height. Stepping forward, he swung wide, seemed like an easy block. Would've been too, if he hadn't drawn back and stabbed, its tip striking my abdomen. [Training Mode] kept it from hurting, simply labeling it as a [Hit] as I stumbled back.
"Zhat trick vould've costed your life. You're too aggressive."
I raised my Zweihander, eyes wide and attentive.
"Pf, I don't go down that easy." I growled, shaking. "Bring it!"
Was such a scrub compared to him, his weapon sending me face first into snow multiple times, always coming forward and stabbing my back afterwards before spacing again. How was I supposed to be legitimate if this German beat me in virtually every affair? Height, accent, skill, calm, he had it all. Most of our party watched us, probably to see how bad Kuradeel could kick my ass.
"Handguard high!" he ordered.
Seeing his example I tried replication, rapping my fingers to affirm my grip. A talking spider, Nishida warned us of a threat hidden below our mountain. A cult leader had ordered groups outside, someone wanting attention after losing their porn stash. Was all good, my job was to help them die for their cause. Oorah.
"Too tight, zhis is no hammer." Kuradeel wagged a finger. "Zhat's vhy you damage it! Loosen grip."
"I'm used to sledge hammers, my bad." I nodded, following his directive.
"Trade ya, Garr!" Lisbeth cheered. "Got a club right here."
"No!" I glanced to her briefly. "Mine."
"Eyes on me, Garr."
My attention snapped back to my instructor. Mimicking his stance, I watched as he stepped forward, arcing his [Greatsword] across as he landed his foot. Despite my efforts to block, his blade reached out and whacked my neck, slapping aside my Zweihander without so much as struggling.
"Zhat is zhe stroke of vrath. One of zhe four master cuts, basic but effective, yah?"
"Seems like it." I smiled.
Had to admit, I liked getting knocked down, playing rough was my way. Shot up, I watched Kuradeel strike again, forcing my [Siege Blade] left to stop it. A face full of grass though proved how effective I was. A routine ensued, getting up over and over, trying to figure out how to block a basic yet effective blow.
"Zhe best part? I can block your attack vhile still executing my own."
Left leg forward, right back. Stepping in with the back leg put power behind my blow, momentum guiding its mass right at Kuradeel's neck as I swung. Sadly, I hit him with its flat side.
"Good vork." Kuradeel nodded. "Use your hips by zhe vay, you must flow vith zhe swings. Trust me, swinging swords zhis large vill tire you. Lot of practice."
Spent another few minutes practicing what he taught, frequently stepping off wrong, sometimes not hitting him with the sharp side, brilliant maneuvers.
"If you are a right handed, put your left on zhe bottom, zhat gives your swings power. Your right guides it."
Swung hard with his instruction, though remaining sloppy. Kuradeel's [Greatsword] weaved and spun, graceful as a swan's stride, deadly as a plane's rotors at full speed. Every attack I made was swept off, my instructor forcing me to step back, or be harmed by a fulcrum aided blade. Every time I was deflected, my body flashed a bright yellow.
"The hell?" I staggered.
"You're being [Parried], not something one can usually do to a [Siege Blade] especially later ones." Heathcliff addressed. "Beware those, they open you for a [Riposte]."
Normal color restored a second later, Kuradeel whirling his [Greatsword] in an 'infinity' pattern before gently letting it down in front of himself like a shield, crouched a moment behind it before gracefully rising.
"Damn, you make it look beautiful." I huffed.
"Danke, been practicing for years." he smiled. "You vouldn't believe how annoying a [Rapier] can be in a HEMA match."
"A what match?" I shouldered my Zweihander.
"Historical European Martial Arts. Recovery time's faster, not as tiring to use...but one doesn't bring only a [Rapier] to battle." He nodded, stepping back before shouldering his weapon.
"Huh, I'll definitely wanna learn more." I smiled. "Thank you."
"Heazhcliff, your up."
Dismissed from practice, I quickly plopped on a nearby rock, letting my [Siege Blade] rest. This game's creator stepped up with [Arming Sword] and [Cross Shield], looking almost as awkward as I was, practicing blocks and swings against Kuradeel.
"Kuradeel! Where'd ya learn this?" Lis called, smiling softly.
"Poland. Vish it vas in Deutschland, but legal issues."
"This game's gonna be a cake walk for you." I said. "Standing here wasting the game master like so much cheese. You decided yet, Yuri?"
"Yea! Put a mark on every spot I want planted. Still wish you got watermelon..."
"Mm, don't give me ideas." I almost drooled.
"Aye, ye heard the man, get to work!"
Hearing Lisbeth's accent had me glancing. I couldn't help but smile, our eyes meeting for a mere moment, maybe longer. A sly grin, those freckles ever present. Maybe I'd ask for her name and number before our week's up.
"Oo-rah."
A little hole was left every few feet, Yuri definitely took time to measure these out. Found him as usual messaging himself, keeping a to-do list. Didn't like fighting, but damn was he organized.
"I wanna know the exact time you plant these." he wrote further. "Sooner we know the schedule, the more efficient we can plan."
I nodded, glancing briefly to his farming spots.
"I'm glad you brought Kuradeel. Seriously, man's a blessing."
"Oh I know." Yuri waved, writing away. "Known him for a few years and figured 'hey, maybe he'd like to try s'ow'. Put together some funds and bam, he's here."
First thing to bury were potatoes, digging with a shovel at least a foot before planting. Kept shivering pleasurably, a cool mountain breeze stroking my back.
"And for the fish." I laughed. "I tell you, got no patience for that."
"My pleasure, mean you got us all sleeping bags. Got yourself cleared away?"
"Nope." I shoveled away more. "Only had enough money to get beds for you guys. Lis was a bit of a curveball, but I'll get one soon."
"Indeed." he glanced down. "You definitely know your way with a shovel."
"Soil here's nothing compared to home." I chuckled weakly. "Here we actually get soil. Back there? Rocks, rocks everywhere."
"Well I'll say this, I miss home." Yuri tilted. "Air conditioner, internet, an actual bed. Oh and memes too."
"You ever seen those Daffy Duck ones?"
"No?"
"Tell you what, my real name's Aiden Faulkner."
"Did I hear anozher German name?" Kuradeel said from a distance.
"Yes, it butchers your language too!" Yuri said.
"Nein, get better!"
A brief chuckle lifted our spirits.
"When we're out, send me some memes." I said. "Got entire folders."
"Oh my." Yuri laughed. "Okay, if you say so."
Swords rang lightly beside us, Kuradeel patient in lecturing. Impotent as I perceived myself around him, I wouldn't deny a good teacher. Was a pretty good day. Course Nishida's cult deal demanded we get stronger or risk losing people, but such was a matter of preparation, rushing would be stupid.
"Anyone wanna go huntin'?" Lisbeth called, pacing around. "Could use some practice."
"Yea, I'm feeling it." Leopon readied her shield, joining beside her.
"Same! Just gotta plant!" I waved, trying to hurry up with prepping our last potato.
"Hurry up, ya git!" Lisbeth demanded.
Trying not to rush, I gingerly dropped and buried our crop. If only I knew how to cultivate, I wasn't a farmer. Patting down soil, I took a nearby bucket and dumped water, letting it pool as I rose. Flicking my arm, however, I stopped. [Hot Wave] wasn't working, my Zweihander refusing to appear.
"The hell?" I fussed, flicking my hand over and over.
It wasn't in storage, neither was it anywhere near my previous seat.
"Guys? You see my weapon anywhere? Must've left it somewhere."
"How do you lose a traffic pole?" Kuradeel chastised. "Zhat vould be like me misplacing my car!"
Yuri and I laughed.
"Ya, losing it in an open parking lot!"
"Anyone?" I glanced around.
"I dunno, mate." Lisbeth glanced around.
Couldn't find it, How'd I lose a weapon whose length surpassed a Smart Car!? Wasn't like I moved my ass much, how could I misplace it, where could I have misplaced it?
"Darn, looks like ye can't join us then." Lisbeth sighed. "Well mate, how about next time?"
"Dammit!" I groaned. "Ugh, yea it'll have to be."
"Should really keep track of your stuff." Leopon said blankly, her expression remaining mild. "It's irresponsible."
"Stab me or judge me, blondie." I flicked a hand. "Not both."
"Fine, don't listen."
Didn't feel right, having them both wander off on their own. Had to remind myself though, this world ran off stats, they could be as strong as I was with a proper stacking of numbers. Discomforting, but reality wasn't for the meek. No luck finding my stupid Zweihander, reverted focus back to farming.
Next row, corn. I missed Mom's cooking, honestly nothing beat it. Was imagining a conversation with Dad too, trying to pry even a chip of wisdom from what I recalled. All I ended up getting though was how to reload an AKM quicker, useful...especially in a medieval setting.
"This is a problem."
"What?" I shot up, Heathcliff staring at a message.
"Tolbana was attacked today." Heathcliff announced. "Kobolds came in to raid the town."
"So they're stupid?" I smirked. "Excellent, makes me feel better about fighting 'em."
"Garr, eighty three people died there." he glanced, lips straight.
"Running, or fighting?"
"Zhat shouldn't matter." Kuradeel argued. "Zhis is horrible."
"Except it should." I said.
All eyes went on me, my hands clutching my shovel in a death grip.
"Everyone dies, that's obvious. It's how that matters."
"I deeply disagree." Kuradeel crossed arms. "Death is something to mourn, not criticize."
"If they died fighting, they should be celebrated, envied even." I brushed my hair. "To hope I can be as brave as them."
"If you run, you live. You live, you fight another day."
"You're a bit too comfortable with that idea." I furrowed my brows.
"Hold on there, Garr." Heathcliff said. "Kuradeel's just offering other solutions. He wasn't challenging you."
"Retreat as a solution?" my hands clenched. "No thanks."
"Vell I hate to burst your bubble, Garr...but real life ain't like zhe movies."
"Ya, cause I'm totally going off that." I crossed my arms. "You know, maybe if you Euros knew how to fight, you wouldn't need us so damn much."
"Ve never asked you to fight for us." Kuradeel glared. "You vanted to be zhe big American hero, yah?"
"You're being too confrontational." Heathcliff warned, siding up with Kuradeel.
"And you're being too soft." I said. "How many of us are in this place, anyway?"
"Five hundred thousand, a few less now."
"You're disrespecting zhe dead."
"Really?" I said. "Did they all run? Damn, guess mourning is in order."
"Zhey vere fighting, Jesus...vere's your compas- compassion? Is zhat zhe right vord?"
"Yes." I shrugged. "Don't treat them like they're a loss, their bravery's an example for the rest."
Was overheating upon turning away, not sure why though. Went back to planting carrots, all seven of them buried below. I'll wanna reproduce at least three of each before we eat any, insured we'd keep a healthy amount of extras. Haven't found my Zweihander, leaving me sighing heavily.
Midday arrived, time to work abs. Laying down, I grabbed a tree, my shins bearing a seventy pound load of iron. A quick pull of my knees left abdominals burning, extension not ending with boots on snow. Had to hold it up, made for a continuous burn, rather than a second of exertion. My muscles were gonna shrink outside here, I was already small enough!
Something approached, south of our location. Heard them coming, was maybe a dozen of them.
"Guys, company!"
Heathcliff and Kuradeel glanced where I pointed, getting up quickly. A group of ten tough looking elves amassed around one familiar figure, whose black hat had me reeling.
"Anthem." I frowned. "Shit, where's my weapon?!"
Lo, do not discount the humble [Spear]. A weapon best used for stabbing, NOT slashing. Hark, what hast become of our great societies when they no longer know how to use a sharp stick? If thou wishes to slash with something long, acquire thyself a [Glaive], [Halberd], or something else of that matter. Seven to eight feet of poking, use it!
- Godfree, Beta Tester's Survival Guide. November 24th, 2022
A/N: Alright guys, stuff continues to crumble! Kobolds, handcuffs, immortal memes, we've got them all!
Reviews, feed me. Opinions help me see what you like/don't like, so it helps you to let me know!
Thanks for your patience, I'll see you again this coming Wednesday!