Disclaimers: All the characters in this fic is copyright of Karash, if there are any similarities between my characters and actual characters, it is purely coincidental. NPC characters and the Game Ragnarok Online belong to the Creators of Ragnarok.

Chapter One

            "For it seemed… her days of… loneliness… was to come… to an… end…" the raven-haired man wrote. This fellow is named Darin Carsen, but everyone just calls him The Scribe. And why shouldn't they? He had exceptional memory, enabling him to write down whatever someone was saying, in both long and short hand. His good penmanship also made his works easy to read. "Is this correct, Miss Addy?"
            "Yes, that was how I met Warse." Addy smiled, patting the cheek of The Scribe. "He is so handsome, and so strong! The way he would take me in his arms to dance!" she sighed, "And he is so light on his feet!" She pulled The Scribe away from the desk to waltz, albeit awkwardly, around the room, maneuvering past the desk, some chairs, the bed and the closet.
            "We danced in the Pronteran church, you know! On the feast day of the Whitewind, Warse waited until the bishop had gone and asked the musician to play a song on the organ. And we danced, round and round, laughing so loud and so hard that the bishop came back." Addy grinned, "But my Warse is too quick! He warped us outside in the blink of an eye! Just like that!" she snapped, releasing her hold on The Scribe as she continued to dance with an imaginary partner.
            Darin quickly began to scribble everything the merchant had narrated.
            "He never needed a blue gem, have I told you that? He had a Biretta of Gemstone, that lucky priest!" she sighed, seating herself onto the bed.
            "Biretta of… gemstone…" The Scribe echoed and waited for Addy to continue.
            But there came no lively chatter, no animated narration. Curious, he peered up from his parchments and ink well. The persimmon haired girl was gazing out the window with her gray eyes; there was an unusual aura of sadness surrounding her.
            "Is that all you have to say about Warse?" he asked.
            "Of course not!" she grinned, "Warse and I were in love, did I tell you that?"
            "Only about fifty five times." The Scribe murmured.
            "Just bear with me, I like to talk a lot." The merchant giggled, and began to narrate her most tender of moments with the silver haired priest.
            "Two years had passed since that fateful day Warse left. He had left without telling me, but the church said that he was going on a pilgrimage. I think it was for a soul cleansing journey, or something. The church told me that every priest had to go through with this. And as they say, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' I miss him terribly, do you think he misses me?" Addy asked, tilting her head.
            "I'm… really not in the position to say anything." Darin sweatdropped. "I'm just The Scribe, I take down events, not get involved with them."
            "You don't have to write this down, you know. Just… tell me what you think." She pressed. "Come on, a yes or a no will do."
            The Scribe was unsure of what to answer when there came a knock from the door. The merchant bolted up from the bed and into the closet.
            "That might be Warse! I can't let him see me like this! I-I-I-… oh could you get it for me?" Addy begged, hiding behind the clothes.
            Wiping his brow in relief, Darin opened the door. He did not find a silver haired priest; instead he saw an assassin, a knight, and a female wizard.
            The Sakkat covered the assassin's brown hair, but it did not hinder the view of his blue eyes. The wizard, though in her early twenties, had pre-mature gray hair due to a misfired spell. Her ashen locks were plaited into one large braid and crowning her head was an Erudite Circlet. The knight's auburn hair was hidden by his Helm, and with his visor raised The Scribe could see his brown eyes. Darin couldn't see if the knight was smiling or frowning because of the Iron Cain he was wearing.
            Though diverse in apparel, one thing was constant. The three had an insignia of an intertwined dragon and eagle on the collar of their garments. Only one guild possessed such an emblem, and it did not take long for Darin to recognize these three were members of The Schattenjägers.
            "We're friends of Addy." The assassin smiled.
            "Miss Addy, it's your friends." The Scribe called, ushering the three guests into the small room. The merchant peeked behind the closet door to see if Darin was telling the truth.
            "Tony! You're here!!" the merchant squealed, waving excitedly.
            "His name's Tommas." The knight corrected.
            "I know that!" Addy scoffed, "I just like teasing him with Tony. Tommy is just too… common, you know what I'm saying?"
            "Don't forget about me, Addy!" the wizard declared brightly, gathering Addy to her ample bussom.
            "Lucy!!!" she gasped, returning the hug.
            "She calls Lucita Bell 'Lucy'?" the knight asked Tommas.
            "That's nothing, you should hear what she calls the others." The assassin grinned.
            "I don't know you, but hello!" the merchant waved to the uncomfortable knight.
            "This is Kharnoz. He's the newest member of our guild."
            "Oooo!! Congratulations Khars!"
            "It's Kharnoz, not Khars." The knight frowned behind his Iron Cain.
            "Don't be so uptight. Uptight knight! Hey, that rhymes!!" Addy chuckled.
            "And what do we have here?" the wizard queried, skimming through the rolls of parchment Darin had been writing on.
            "Dar is writing a manuscript about the citizens of Midgard. He's looking for stories and tales, and asked if I had any. I was more than happy to give him some material for his work." Addy explained brightly.
            "Really?" Tommas raised his brows.
            "Yes, Miss Addy's kind enough to share her experiences. She's given me invaluable information and possible plots." The Scribe praised.
            "How about asking me?" Kharnoz volunteered, "I've been around and had my share of adventure. You could write all about it. What do you say?"
            The Scribe hesitated, and glanced to the assassin and the wizard. Tommas averted his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. Lucita did the same and fidget with her hair.
            "O-okay, I'll accept your offer but after Addy finishes telling me her stories."
            "Don't be silly! I'm just as interested in hearing Khars' tales, I don't mind if he tells them here." Addy gestured for them to sit.
            "A-are you sure, Miss Addy?"
            "Sure I'm sure! Go on, Khars, tell us a story!"
            Before the knight could begin, the assassin spoke up.
            "Addy, we have to leave now."
            "What? So soon? You just got here!!" the merchant whined.
            "Yeah, I haven't even started yet." Kharnoz frowned.
            "Listen to the guildmaster Kharnoz." Lucita echoed. "Come on, you can tell your story to Dar next time we see him."
            "I could always go to your guild's headquarters." The Scribe suggested.
            "I'd go with Dar, but I promised to wait for Warse here. And he might be coming home any day now."
            "Really? I'm glad to hear that, Addy." The guildmaster smiled warmly.
            There came another knock at the door and in entered a toffee haired female acolyte.
            "Miss Evional? It's time."
            "Even Dar has to go?"
            "I'm afraid so."
            "That's alright Miss Addy, I can come back tomorrow." The Scribe assured her. "And this leaves me free to take down Mister Kharnoz's story."
            "Great! Come on!" the knight grinned.
            "No one leaves until I get a huggle!" Addy declared. Everyone in the room except for Addy sweatdropped. Still, the persimmon haired girl would not be denied the extra affectionate hug from each of them, not even The Scribe.
            The acolyte waved goodbye to the group as they walked to the hallway until they disappeared down the stairs. Somehow, they managed to ignore the screams and manic laughter ringing throughout the stairwell. At the bottom of the steps was a priestess.
            "Your destinations?"
            "Morroc." Tommas answered.
            "All four of you?"
            "Yes." The Scribe nodded.
            "Please come again, your visit is highly appreciated." The priestess gently said as she warped the group out of the insane asylum.