Mercy Phillips let out a slight groan as she were pulled from the realm of dreams and dragged back to the grim reality of the waking world. It had been the sound of someone or something slamming against the wood of her door. Wearily, and reluctantly she sat up, reaching for her glasses.
Putting the world into focus she glanced at the ancient clock next to her bed, and grimaced. It was barely after six in the morning, which made her scowl and mood sour. She had been up late testing the limits of the one skill that she could actually use indoors and without a test dummy. As such she had gotten very little sleep.
Slowly she eased herself out of bed and walked to the door, throwing on a robe before she opened it.Mercy stood glaring at the person on the other side, her mood growing darker as said person happened to be her mother.
Chasity Phillips, was a woman of power, beauty and influence, which was hardly a surprise for someone in Arcvale with that particular surname. Most people in the city knew her better by her moniker, Princess of Blood. A name she got for her penchant of getting covered in the blood of her enemies. It would have been queen, if that particular title hadn't already been taken by Mercy's grandmother Kivara.
"Oh, good you're up." Chasity said striding past Mercy, heading toward her closet.
"Mom, why are you here?" Mercy asked rubbing her eyes as her mother began to rummage through her clothes. "And, why so early?"
"Well, dear, it's to help you get established. You've gotten your little gifts from dad already. Now is the time to set out and forge your Path." Chasity proclaimed in a chipper tone unsuitable for the time of day.
Mercy merely stared at her mother, and the her uncharacteristic enthusiasm for her child's welfare. Chasity could generously be called a hands off parent, especially with Mercy being the last of four. The woman had long since grown disillusioned on the prospect of children being special. It took a moment, which she blamed on her sleep deprivation, to figure it out. The conclusion she came to had Mercy wanting to both sigh and groan at the same time.
"What did aunt Lisa say this time?" Mercy asked. Her aunt Lisa, the eldest of them was the only person she knew that could provoke her mother so.
"I have no idea what you mean dear." Chasity replied, confirming things for Mercy.
Her aunt, Lisa Phillips, a.k.a the Demonic Dancer was, in much the same way as her mother, a powerful, beautiful, and influential woman, just more so. She possessed a grace that, among other things, her mother simply didn't have, though not for a lack of trying, which was part of the problem. Her aunt didn't need to try. She was one of those gifted naturalists that were good at whatever they chose to do.
She was also one of those people that weren't openly smug about it, which did a lot to irk Mercy's mother. That irritation more often than not trickled down. It didn't help matters that while they were the same age, even born on the same day, Lisa was had popped out first was considered the first born of Arthur Phillips' children.
As to why her aunt would be involved had to do with her cousin Phoebe. Like Mercy she too had awakened to the System roughly at the same time, and had received gifts from their patriarch on the same day. With that sort of event, Mercy felt mad at herself for not predicting her mother's movements. With such a realisation in mind, Mercy understood there wasn't much she could do to stem her mother's jealous fueled actions. If anything it would probably be best just to roll with it.That certainly seemed easier that trying to fight the force of nature that was the Princess of Blood.
Mercy, after ushering her mother out of her room, rushed to get ready. She didn't know where her mother intended to take her, so she made sure to grab a sturdy but comfortable set of clothes and shoes. She also grabbed the fruit of the previous night's labours; her new gun, built out of magic, and converted bits and bobs she canabalized from around her room. It appeared and functioned as a true Colt single action armry revolver, if a little rough around the edges, and some artistic flare. With more time, MP, and better materials she held little doubt about upping the quality.
All set to go, Mercy ran down stairs. Stopping by the kitchen she snatched a quick to go breakfast for herself. It was just about gone when she met up with her mother in the front room. There she found her mother waiting for her while one of the servant waited on her. Just from a quick glance, Mercy couldn't say she recognised the man, and figured he was new. Then again she could hardly claim to care. The servants, be they her mother's or one of her sister's came and went to the point it was hardly worth remembering their names or faces. It was callous, sure, but it hurt more to get attached.
Chasity glanced over at her daughter. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the younger woman. Mercy rolled her eyes at the tangible feeling of judgemental disappointment coming off her mother. It was something that she had long since grown use to, and accepted. Her mother had standards. Those standards had been derived from her innate inferiority complex towards her sister, but they were standards none the less, of which, Mercy had long ago stopped bothering to try and reach. It was a truly fruiless endevour.
"Hmm, I guess that will have to do." Chasity said commenting on any number of things. Mercy didn't bother to figure out which. "It isn't as though we're going anywhere all that important."
The Princess of blood turned on a heel, instantly forgetting about the half naked oiled up man that had literally been worshiping her, as she walked to the front door. Mercy mouthed a silent apology before following her mother. It didn't stop said mother from hurrying her along.
The two women stepped out into the early morning light of day. Waiting for them just outside was her mother's town car and personal driver TImmons. Cars, much less any motorized vehicle were rare and usually the sole purview of the rich and powerful. As if to exemplify that notion, Timmons made sure to open and hold the door for mother and daughter to climb inside. They took a moment to get settled while Timmons walked around to the driver's seat. In that moment, Chasity began her interrogation.
"Tell me, dear, what did you get from dear old dad?" Chasity asked.
"A cursed ring and a gun I couldn't use." Mercy said holding up her hand to show off the black and white band on her left hand permanently attached to her hand. Then she decided to mention the grimoire she had received from Kivara, mostly because she was utterly incapable of hiding things from her mother.
"With all three together I was offered a class."
For a moment Chasity stared at the ring on Mercy's finger. Her expression was unreadable by Mercy save for the fact that it sent a chill down her spine. Thankfully it didn't last very long.
"Really?" Chasity said actually sounding interested. "What sort of class?"
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Mercy decided to skip over the two classes that she passed over. There wouldn't really be a point. "It's called Hexslinger."
Mercy watched her mother as subtle expressions crossed her face. "I assume it's some sort of caster class."
"Pretty much witches with guns." Mercy said, not bothering to try and inflate it. For one her mother would see past that, and two there was little point in trying to impress the woman, with something so mundane.
"Hmm, at least it isn't something pedestrian." Chasity said, which to Mercy sounded like high praise to her ears. Yeah, Mercy's bar for affection was practically non existent. "Tell me, which stats are the most prominent."
"Charisma and dexterity. I get 4 points in each per level, and an additional free point to allocate where I choose." Mercy explained.
"Hmm, yes, well that sound like a decent spread for a first tier class." Chasity said. "Charisma for magical damage, dexterity so you can actually hit what you're aiming for. You certainly could have done worse. I honestly figured you'd get something boring, and unitarian, like scribe or archivist. Then again that's better than something dumb like Paladin."
"Still miffed about Prudence I see." Mercy said referring to one of three older sisters.
Chasity shot her daughter a glance, and then huffed. "Yes, I'm still miffed. Paladins are dumb zealous brutes. Always out to smite evil. How that girl went so wrong in a family like ours is a genuine mystery." Chasity ranted, not for the first time, or last time. Mercy was well aware of her mother's aversion to 'good' or rather instituions that like to present themselves as such. "It'd be one thing had she done it just to spite me, but she's completely serious."
"If it'll make you feel better, I did destroy a weapon specifically designed to vanquish evil and wipe demons off the face of the planet." Mercy said knowing, it probably wouldn't.
"That magic gun you got from your grandfather?"
"Yeah, it zapped me the moment I tried to touch the damned thing. It almsot seemed offended that I even dared to touch it. Used one of my two class skill to break it down, and create a blueprint for something more useful than a magical paperweight." Mercy admitted.
"Well, that's something." Chasity murmured.
Conversation died down at that point. The mother daughter pair road in silence as they moved across the city. They had gone beyond the residential zones into the market sector, more than that, it was a section that she hadn't visited before.
A simple glance out the window let her see that it was the section which catered to the adventurers of the city. The ones that went beyond the walls to explore the unknown, mow down monsters, try to carve out a chunk of the world for themselves.
Of the three, the latter was the hardest one to actually accomplish. As a child, Mercy had her own flights of fancy in regards to creating her own city the way her grandfather and his compatriots had. Though as she got older, those dreams were quickly replaced by various pragmatic excuses that came with age.
Timmons pulled to a full stop, parking outside of a small building with less fanfare then Mercy would expect for her mother. As she had been trained to do all her life, Mercy waited until TImmons opened the door, and followed her mother out. She continued to follow the older woman into the shop.
Just past the threshold was a small room with a desk. Behind said desk was bored looking Imp with reddish pink skin an long crooked nose. He glanced up at their arrival, and seemed ready to dismiss the two, before seeming to realise just who it was that stood before him.
"Blood Princess, how might, I, Jarro be of service?" the Imp asked in a somewhat swamrmy way.
"I'm here to see Ventus." Chasity replied.
"Of course Blood Princess, of course." Jarro said. Hopping down from his seat he shuffled into the back.
A minute or so later another imp, a female one this time came out. She was a brighter hue than Jarro, with long vertical horns and a pixie cut of black hair. She stood about four feet tall, not including the horns, which put her at 4'4.
"Ah, Blood Princess, welcome. I assume this is another of your brood?" she said with an odd twang more commonly associated with the southern city of Farkansas.
"Yes, the last of them hopefully. She got inducted into the System, and even has a class. I need the appropriate starter set for her."
"My word, a class already, must be a real prodigy." Ventus said, to which Chasity merely shrugged.
"Perhaps, but I'm not holding out hope. Just get her situated, and we'll be on our way."
Ventus hid her thoughts with a merchant's smile, and stepped forward to grasp Mercy's hand. "Come along now. Ventus will do you up good."
Mercy allowed herself to be dragged into the back of the shop, which opened up considerably. Just about every wall was filled with a different assortment of wares. Weapons, armors, consumables, Mercy figured there was just about everything in some shape or form. The two came to a stop by a couple of chairs near what looked to be a work table. Mercy was ushered to sit quite vehemently.
"The Blood Princess says you have a class already. Tell, Ventus and we'll see what we can do."
Mercy spent the next ten minutes or so explaining things, and answering questions. All the while Ventus sat taking notes. From what Marcy could see it was in some sort of short hand. Once she was finished the female imp hopped off her seat and began to scramble around. She plucked various items off the walls, or dug things up from underneath piles of what Mercy had assumed to be junk. Then she walked back holding an almost comically high stack of items, which she set on the ground in front of Mercy before smiling.
All too soon Mercy was standing before a mirror. She had been given a few items to wear, none of which were all that outlandish for the most part. The armor and equipment for women tended to be on a scale between unflattering, to down right impractical and ridiculous.
Thankfully there was none of that.
Mercy had been given a belt holster that hung off her wide hips over a pair of black leather pants. She'd also been given a leather halter vest/corset, that could be worn with or without a shirt underneath, however it also meant she couldn't wear a bra. The System itself refused to let her wear the vest with one on. For reasons she had long since stopped bothering to ask, it counted as armor, and was mostly utilized by female rogues.
Mercy might have argued had it not paired so well with the leather cowboy hat, which somehow counted as a helmet to the System. Much to Ventus' shame she didn't have a pair of boots, or a duster to complete the gunslinger look she seemed to be going for, which put a bit of a damper on Mercy's spirit. At least until the lady imp offered up a substitute.
Ventus made up for her self proclaimed lack of preparedness with another coat, this one geared towards witches rather than gunslingers. It was a dark blue bordering on black and made from a fabric that was soft to the touch. The bodice was slim and form fitting, while the sleeves were long and billowy, giving the whole thing a Victorian gothic flare. The jacket stopped around the top of waist in the front while continuing on to her knees in the back. It flowed in such a way that it was easy enough to reach the holster even while buttoned up.
The final item wasn't a piece of armor, but a ritual knife. Hardly anything fancy, but it was essential for any aspiring witch, warlock, necromancer or garden variety cultist nut job. While it wasn't a weapon per se, but it could certainly be useful in clutch situations. It also fit rather nicely in the jacket without messing up the lines.
Standing there Mercy did a little twirl. She loved it, but at the same time narrowed her eyes, as the poisonous thought of cost popped into her head. While none of what she wore was exactly high grade, neither would it cost pennies.
"Worry not. Your patriarch provides." The imp said.
"Yeah, do you mind clarifying that?" Mercy asked.
"Ventus provides starter kit for the patriarch's young, and in exchange Ventus and her kin are allowed to live and make monies." Ventus said. "Deal is good, though had not realised how quickly his kin spawned."
"Yeah, we're a precocious bunch." Mercy said still admiring herself. Looking at herself she felt a sense of power. She knew it was just a mental illusion of her own making, yet it still felt good.
Mercy walked out to the front room where she found her mother once again being served hand and foot, this time by Jarro. Upon seeing her daughter emerge, Chasity subtly raised an eye brow.
"Hmm, couldn't find matching shoes, huh?" Chasity said.
"Unfortunately no." Mercy answered with a sigh.
"Well, no matter." Chasity said off handedly as she moved toward the door. "Come along now dear."
Mercy dipped her head, her initial excitement deflated, but followed her mother none the less. From Ventus' shop the two walked through the now busier streets forgoing the car.