Brewary showed off his new sword. The Zweihander was different from his issued sword by being slimmer and having a longer handle. It's most interesting feature was the 2 bits of metal sticking out of the sides, roughly 3/4 down its length. Below the protrusions, the blade wasn't sharpened.

"See, darlings? These parrying hooks serve as a smaller crossguard to stop enemy weapons. And if I ever get in a tight place-", he stood at a stance and grabbed the unsharpened length with his off hand,

"- I can do this". His sword acted like a short spear.

"You sure that can still cut?", asked Roland. That sword looked very well used. Too used, actually.

"That's the sad part, honey. This sword is almost to the end of its glorious life". He indicated the steel cutting edge attached to the softer metal core. It really was worn out. That would buy maybe a month or 2 before needing to be replaced.

"But I assure you my dears-", he said, gracefully whirling it with one hand,

"- the only way to beat me now is to shoot me, which is where you come in, Honey. Don't want anything else entering me other than the finest men in Grimgar". He made a rather inappropriate sound that ended in a laugh.

"Outstanding", said Demit. She wore a padded jacket with string to tie it at the front. Her staff was changed too, this time it was one with a heavier head, and balanced perfectly in the middle with a weighted butt. The jacket wasn't as good as something brand new because it was patched many times with different materials, compromising the padding and multi-layer fabric protection. But even those were cruder pads and layers slapped on and sewn. When it was brand new, it was likely from a trainee tailor who only had access to excess materials.

Roland wore the same jacket she did, and just as patched. They collectively haggled with the vendor saying that they would both buy, provided there was a larger discount.

He selected his worst, most ruffled training arrows, left them somewhere for some other person to pick (shops didn't want trash training arrows that trainee artisans made), then purchased some bodkins. These are arrows with slightly heavier needle-like heads meant for punching through armour. Naturally, poorer quality bodkins existed but he wanted his specialist ammunition. Since most Hunters used broadhead arrows, bodkin prices were even higher due to rarity. Broadheads could be just cut from scrap plate and reforged into shape before sharpening and attaching to the wooden shaft, making them easier to mass produce. The needle-like Bodkins had to be forged and tapered manually piece by piece. Its length meant that properly centering the tips would take more time, especially the higher quality ones that needed steel tips. He paid the price without complaint. Those bodkins will come in handy. He was sure of it. He replaced his quiver with one that had a divider so the arrow fletching would not touch each other. It also had a cover so they won't be damaged by accident while moving. He then bought more training arrows to fill the quiver. Altogether, he had a sheaf of 20 training and 4 bodkins. He gently took one out and showed the group, explaining the difference between his training arrows, broadheads and bodkins.

"AP rounds!", said Demit.

Jakson bought padded leather panels for his chest, thighs and shins. There were also leather and metal bracers for his arms. Since didn't need to buy a weapon, he could afford some metal in his armour.

"Fireteam Alpha will now field test their weapons at Damrow." The group cheered playfully and laughed, turning the heads of quite a few at morning market.

Goblins 1 and 3 charged, spears leading. Brewary's swipe scythed through the 2 spears, and the return swipe took off Goblin 3's head. Its metal plate and helmet did not protect the neck. Goblin 1 used its sheared off spear shaft and thrusted. The attack was deflected by the Zweihander hooks and with a slight twist and a thrust, Brewary stabbed it in the face. Demit pummeled Goblin 2's shield, bashing and shoving with her staff, keeping it at a distance. Roland kept an eye out, looking out for crossbows other than the dead Goblin 4. Seeing how quickly its friends died, Goblin 2 was ready to run. Brewary stood behind it. Surrounded, it wailed desperately under its shield to its death. The new gear was working. Elated, Demit made the hexagram, found something to climb and yelled into Old City;

"Fireteam Alpha, motherfuckers! F.T.A.! F.T.A.! F.T.A.! F.T.A.!"

"Demit, what the hell?", asked Roland. Brewary was laughing loudly.

A goblin screeched some kind of warning in the distance. 2 heads popped out. Roland fired at Goblin 5 but it had enough time to duck away. Goblins 5 and 6 fired their crossbows but missed. Demit jumped off with an 'oh shit' and laughed. Roland jumped off too and relocated. Goblins 7,8,9 and 10 advanced. 9 and 10 had those plates with ropes, shields and swords. 7 stood between the 2, spear out and used the shields as cover from Roland's arrows. Goblin 8 followed behind as some kind of a rear guard. It only had a sword and chainmail. Jakson appeared from the back and stabbed Goblin 8. The chainmail stopped the blade going all the way in but it still hurt the goblin. It swung its weapon wildly and Jakson deflected it with his bracer.

Brewary's first swing was targeted at the spear, taking off the metal head and shortening its length. The shielded goblins came in contact with Brewary and Demit, ending the protection of Goblin 7. With its spear broken and shortened, it tried to use the pointed bit to stab Demit but was killed by an arrow.

"Where are they? Where are they, dammit..." said Roland. He relocated again, crossing the street. On the way across, he saw Goblins 5 and 6. 5 aimed at Jakson and 6 was aiming at Demit. Goblin 6 saw an Archer which was a greater threat, pointed its weapon and fired at the same time as Roland loosed at Goblin 5. The dart slammed into his shoulder, staggering him. Goblin 5 fell off the window eaves unto the street. Goblin 6 ducked behind cover. I can't believe I got shot again, thought Roland. Goblin crossbows were weaker so the dart didn't penetrate his padded jacket, but it hurt like hell. It would bruise tomorrow morning.

"Come out, goblin!", yelled Roland, twisting the dart left and right and extracting it. Brewary used Rage Blow on Goblin 10, knocking its shield out of its grip. Channeling the momentum of the swing into a twist, he drove the sword into the goblin's face. Pushing forward a few steps, he redirected the sword and cut into the back of Goblin 9's legs. Hamstrung, it fell to its knees and its head was caved in by Demit's staff with repeated hits.

"There's another crossbow," said Roland, pointing a safe place out of the field of view. Roland climbed again and found it, hiding behind some rubble, loading the next dart. It would have remained hidden if Roland hadn't relocated. Goblin 6 was ended quickly. Arrows really did fly straighter if one took the trouble to look after its fletching.

Goblin 8's sword slipped out of its fingers. Jakson had used Slap on its wrist too many times while protecting himself with the bracer. Still, the goblin did land a deep cut on his side. Knowing that goblins ran when beaten, he tackled Goblin 8, pushing its head down with a bracer and stabbing the neck. He looked at Demit.

"Next time not make noise like that". Demit and Brewary laughed.

"No, seriously. Don't attract attention like that", said Roland.

"Field test successful, am I right?", she asked Brewary. He was really happy with his new weapon, and rightly so. They high-fived. Roland and Jakson did not share that enthusiasm.

"C'mon, man. Your armour's good", she continued, mentioning the hole where the dart had entered. Jakson walked up for his heal. He was shaking his offhand, sore from blocking the goblin sword.

"Noisy like Ranta urod", he said.

"Hey, dick move, Broski".

"He's right", said Roland.

"We attracted an even larger patrol. What if there's a goblin garrison set up out there?", he said gesturing deeper into the city. Demit and Brewary just dismissed it.

"What's a Fireteam Alpha anyway?", asked Roland.

"That's what you get when you form a group of 4, right?". She wasn't too sure either.

"What is Hooah?", asked Jakson. Demit was interrogated. What was 'AP', 'Hooah', 'Fireteam', 'PMC', 'PTSD' and all the other weird words. Demit just told them all to 'shut the fuck up'. They gathered loot into a single bag while Demit made a sign for every goblin, then moved somewhere else sheltered to eat.

"Fuck, I forgot to tell you guys something. PTSD Mary's living at my place."

"What's PTSD?"

"When someone gets broken by some bad tragedy or something, fuck off. Anyway, I saw her sitting at the porch, looking out with her thousand-yard stare". She gestured into an imaginary distance, her face poker-straight.

"Oh dear. What happened to her?"

"Dunno. Next time I head to the Temple, I'll ask around". They ate silently. Roland noticed that Jakson ate poorer quality food, preferring to spend his coin on alcohol. You'd see him eating the hardtack and bread from West Town's Tattan Bakery, but his second drinking skin is always hard drink. They then moved in deeper for more goblins.

That was their routine for the next few days; wake up, exercise and bathe, then breakfast, off to Damrow, return in the evening with loot to divide into 5. There were situations where Roland had to fire his bodkins, to great effect. Still, their coins grew with the loot and arrows were easily replenished. He was considering changing all training arrows to broadheads.

One day, another party walked their road.

"Fuck me sideways", said Demit. Team Manato had arrived.

"So they learn kill more than 1 goblin", said Jakson. The group laughed.

"Time to switch hunting grounds, goblins are getting boring anyway", said Demit.

"I think we should go learn something new", said Roland.

"New badges too", said Brewary.

"Also gather intel", said Demit. The group collectively sighed and turned back.

"Eh, after what we did to the place, they're fighting lone goblins, the fucking pussies who hide when we show up", said Demit. Brewary laughed. A new plan was made. They'd go purchase badges, take the rest of the day off and go back to their guilds tomorrow. They sighed again as the cost of everything will reduce them to only a few silvers.

They stopped at Yorozu Deposit company. She was there and remembered their faces as usual. The only difference was her mentioning Jakson's name. While she says all her customers' names, she never starts a sentence with it, unless it's with Jakson.

"Krestovozdvizhensky. What business do you have with the Company today?"

Demit, Roland and Jakson emerged with their silver badges, having paid 20 silver each. Jakson was charged for stealing a bottle from Red Moon Office, with interest, 1 whole silver.

"Now run along little kittens, while I play with Brewary here". They all said 'Chief' as they exited the building. They'd spend the day freely and gathering intel before going to their respective guilds next day, finally meeting up for a demonstration. Roland had been at work since day 1. It felt strange having the afternoon off. He took the opportunity to observe Jakson while hanging out with him at their lodging balcony. He squatted and hummed songs, pausing to drink. Sometimes he would tap Roland's arm and point out some pretty girls or men that looked out of the ordinary. Jakson never did say much, but was generally generous with his drinks. He seemed to drink a lot but never got drunk. Living with him, you got used to the smell of alcohol. Actually, one night he rolled in a small barrel of warm liquid that made the room smell awful the next day. Once the room was properly ventilated and the drink was strained (with the help of Roland and a cheese cloth), then chilled in the cellar for 2 days, it turned out to be a tasty but weaker than beer drink that Jakson named 'Kvass'. Raisins and some other sweet dried fruit made the drink even better. Demit and Brewary were not told about the drink as they childishly hoarded it for themselves.

That evening, they met the Veterans again and offered to pay for drinks. This new round of information demanded top shelf drinks, so the happy bartender slid aside a board on a shelf, revealing the special stock of drinks he had.