Darc flopped onto the grass in a most unbecoming manner. Gotta stand up! He gathered his strength and tried to stand once more before unceremoniously finding himself with a mouth full of dirt. Again. Damnit, gotta get up and... The next few minutes were a repeat of the process until he finally got it through his head that he might have a concussion. It wasn't until about an hour later that he felt his headache and nausea dissipate into a mild throbbing beating against his skull. As he unsteadily rose to his feet he took stock of what the hell had just happened. There didn't seem to be any obvious tracks that lead anywhere other than around where Bradford and the paladin had been standing before he got knocked down. In that same spot there stood a 3 foot wide circle where it seemed the grass had erupted into nothingness. Well shit... was that some kind of spell? A few moments later, it dawned on Darc that he was out of his depth, there was only one thing he could do: move forward.

He glanced skyward and noted the position of the sun. It was nearing the end of afternoon. Probably only a few hours of sunlight left. Checking his things, he was off once more towards the town sitting in the distance. As he strode along the road, Darc's brow was furrowed in concentration, deep in thought. What the hell was that paladin earlier and why Bradford... How did they even know?... Did somebody get caught? Was it ... one of the others?... the faces of his friends Matt, Stacy and Lindsey flashed through his mind before finally settling on Lina. Damnit... no use worrying about it... He worried the whole way there.

His mind was elsewhere, running on fumes as he trudged along the road straight towards the town's wooden gate entrance. By the time he drew close, the sun was already kissing the edge of the horizon, the journey having taken longer than he had anticipated. A few guards were leaning off to one side of the gate, one of them quite tall, standing at 6ft and the other on the short side of 5 foot 4, both with straw-colored hair curling out of their helmets. They seemed fairly well armed in their chain armor suited over padded cloth and iron short swords at their sides, kite shields on their backs. Tabards slung over their mail garments proudly displayed a blood-red crown with an emerald-green orb nestled in the center of it. As he mindlessly approached, one of them called out, "Hey, you there! What business have you in Westhaven?"

Darc shook himself out of his funk as he quickly responded, "I'm here on business. Looking to trade a few things, maybe rest up for awhile."

Giving Darc an appraising look, the short one followed up, "Business, say? Don't see no cart trudgin along behind ya. And never seen clothes like them, where ya from?"

Waving his hand in a vague westernly direction Darc replied, "West." The guard was eyeing him with a doubtful upturn of his lips. "Far, far west."

Still suspucious, the guard gave him a warning, eyeing the results of Darc's recently rough lifestyle, "Aye, well then Sir West, won't be havin no trouble here in town now. I catch a whiff o' anything n' I'll come down on ya like a cat on eels." The guards stood to the side, letting him pass though with a fair bit of stink-eye from the short one.

Mentally rolling his eyes, Darc nodded along towards them and swept past into the town. It took him some time to find a merchant's stall that was still open. He had combed the dirt streets, occaisionally asking for directions before finding himself in the marketplace not far from the center of town. In this area the buildings were colored brightly in shades of yellow, orange and red brick, the roads and small plaza set with paved stones. The sun was gasping its last rays of orange-red light upon the wooden stalls of various goods and services. Potions and herbs, meat and vegetables, arms and armor, it seemed like nearly everybody was packing up for the night. He took a few minutes observing before heading over to a weapon's merchant that was still holding onto the fleeting hope of one last customer.

When it became clear that Darc was approaching, the merchant actually frowned. He looked quite thin & frail and he seemed to have some strange mutation with his ears which drew up out of his head into tapered points. Remembering his youth, Darc couldn't help but think that this man was an elf. The elf's frown deepened as Darc spoke up, displaying the two daggers he had just taken out of his bag, "Hey, uh.. sorry for the trouble? How much for these?"

The man seemed to be deliberating something for a moment before he snatched up the daggers, giving them an appraisal. As he hefted and thumbed one of them, he commented in a drawl, "They seem ok. 1 Shilling per dagger."

Darc opened his mouth to accept before he noticed that the elf's frown had entirely disappeared. Whatever had been bothering him, his daggers had swept away that worry. "Yeah, riiight. It's good steel you know? Nothing like it in the world, as I'm sure you can tell..." Technically it was probably true, though he didn't know what kind of value much of anything had in this world. "It's called Stainless Steel where I'm from."

The elf sputtered for a second, before spewing out the words, "Feh, whatever. Even if what you say's true, they're just daggers. 3 Shillings. Total."

Darc nodded his head and shook the elf's hand in agreement. Pocketing his coins, he could almost swear the elf had a smug look in his eyes as he left in a hurry to go find an inn. Two hours later, Darc was in his room, going over the events of the day. Night had fallen not long after he'd left the marketplace and it had taken him the better part of an hour just to find this place. Apparently the Wobbly Willow was the best place for people like him. Travelers or adventurers looking for a relatively secure room to rest for the night. Despite that, there only seemed to be 5 others staying at the inn, from what he had seen in the common room that was set up like a restaurant with a bar. Huh. The folk here kept calling it an inn, but wasn't it a tavern? He wasn't sure.

The guests of the tavern were split into 2 different groups, the pair being a man and woman with dark black hair tied up in ponytails. Their features looked somewhat Arabian, much different from the Anglo-Saxon appearance of most of the town's residents. The other group of the inn-dwellers were a hodgepodge of different races, namely an elf, dwarf and human woman with red, fritzy hair and freckles on her face. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Darc had quickly found the innkeeper, a man with medium length pale blond hair and sharp eyes accented by his hawkish nose. Ah, Wilfred was his name. Wilfred. Wilford... as he continued his thoughts he almost immediately forgot the name again.

The price for his room and food (some hardened, tough to chew bread with a bowl of mushroom stew) came up to 2 dimes and 4 pennies for one night. If he were a betting man, he'd say that in whatever translation method the nanobots had performed, it had probably made things easier for people from Earth by naming coins in easy to remember denominations. After seeing money exchange hands throughout his 2 hours and change journey in town, he came to the conclusion that 5 pennies were equal to 1 dime. Then 5 dimes were equal to 1 Shilling... beyond that he had no idea. Hmm... need to find out how to make money. Only got enough for... 4 more days?... No way I'm selling my favorite. His thoughts eventually turned to Bradford and the others as he quietly drifted off to sleep.

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Bradford was in a bit of a predicament. Whisked away by the winds of fate, he had found himself stranded with one of his charges in a strange yet terrifying world. Subtly dangerous yet manageable, were his initial thoughts, though he shivered in reminiscence of that squirrel's teeth. And those wolves' teeth. Why were there so many teeth? Ah, but now things were different. For the forseeable future, my battles will be fought with words, not beasts. Sure, he'd lost Darc, but he was sure that he'd find his own way somehow. Kid was... is a survivor. He looked in front of him at the two before him, their eyes glued to his, a look of worry set across their features. "Darc will be fine. The town was close. Very close. I'm just glad that we've all survived so far."

Lindsey answered in an almost whispering voice, "I... I guess so. But what about Matt? And Lina?"

Bradford shrugged silently in response. There was no way to know. No way for them to know at least. He turned towards his escort behind him. Lady Minoa stood there by the only exit like a statue, eyes closed. They had tried speaking to her to no avail, her only words at Bradford's arrival being, "Stay here, she will be here shortly." Bradford wasn't entirely sure what they wanted of him but he did know one thing: they held all the cards. They had somehow gathered information about him from the two girls Stacy and Lindsey. The girls claimed that they had never mentioned him and yet here he was.

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There was only one plausible explanation then. Magic. They were capable of things far beyond him. He shuddered as he recalled his journey to an open courtyard within the mansion they were currently staying. Somehow he and Minoa had moved through the air from that hilltop where they'd left Darc at a frightening speed, far surpassing the speed of sound. They arrived at their destination in mere minutes, crossing what seemed to be nearly a thousand miles. I don't want to get on their bad side. I can't- We can't afford to. Moments passed and Lady Minoa finally opened her eyes, drawing their attention. "Sir Cooper, she awaits our arrival in the dining hall." And with that the old man, followed by 2 girls, one curious, the other stoic, left to meet their host.

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Darc awoke with a start. His head still throbbed and his body ached in pain all over. He lay there groaning for a few moments before sitting up and getting dressed. Really need a new shirt, he thought, fingering the holes which seemed to keep multiplying on it. Shouldering his bag, he promptly left his room and went down the stairs. He was greeted by the aroma of bacon and the sounds of arguing from across the room.

As he drew a seat on the other side of the room, he could hear the words being thrown out, stern and female, "I told you, there's nobody else! This town's just full of a bunch of cowards!" There was a rebuttal, the tone deep and echoing, "My order teaches patience. Rushing in will only get us killed. We will find others." Darc couldn't help but to turn and take a look at the speakers. They were the dwarf and red-haired woman from yesterday, the elf sitting to the side looking bored.

The woman spoke again, this time with less force than earlier, she looked resigned, "If this keeps up, we'll have more trouble than it's worth. We might have to send word over to the guard at Gale." The dwarf merely stroked his beard in thought then responded, "Indeed, although we will earn little in the end..." His eyes shifted over to Darc, the movement of the innkeeper placing breakfast before him drawing the attention. Quickly turning his back towards the group, Darc focused all his attention on eating what looked like slices of bacon next to more bread. It sounded like whatever they were doing, it was probably dangerous and he could still feel the wounds from yesterday throbbing in rhythm to his heartbeat. Halfway through his breakfast, however, the dwarf was standing before him to his right.

"Greetings." He bowed slightly at the waist, head nodded downwards with his hands in front of him hand over fist. "I am called Thormak. May I have this seat?" He motioned at the bench

Darc nodded slowly, taking a good look at the dwarf before him. He stood around 4 feet tall, golden blonde hair streamed down the sides and back of his head in braids. His aquamarine eyes almost looked like real jewels, as the pupils were shaped with many facets and edges around them. "Sure, grab a seat. Name's Darc."

The dwarf sat himself opposite of Darc and spoke, "As you heard, my companions and I are in need of help. We are adventurers. We were called here to help deal with the local Tunnelers." He took a moment to note Darc's appearance and attire before continuing, "It seems you are not a stranger to danger, perhaps-"

Darc cut him off, a frown etched in his face, "Sorry, but don't you see..." he motioned towards his general self, "this? ... Much as I'd like to join you, how am I going to help anybody in this state?"

Thormak looked baffled. "That.. What..." he cleared his throat, "Why do you not just ask the church for healing?" He now looked a little worried, twisting the ends of his beard.

"Umm... just so we're clear, by healing, do you mean with... magic?" Darc asked in return.

The dwarf's look of worry shifted to one of curiosity instead. "Yes, indeed. If I may ask, where are you from?"

"Ah..." Darc took a moment before responding with a half-truth he had concocted the day before,"I'm from a very faraway place to the west. Or at least I think it was west. When I was young, me and my family were driven from our homes. I... ever since coming to this land, I've been living alone in the wilderness with my father. He was taken from me recently and this is the first town that I've been to."

Thormak sat, sunken in thought. "How many years? How long were you out there?"

"I've been fighting my entire life." The dwarf seemed to still be trapped in his own thoughts as Darc rectified, "Well... actually, not me, it was my father that fought most the time."

"Your father must have been a great man..." Darc breathed a sigh as he closed his eyes and nodded. I'll find you Bradford. Thormak seemed to come to a decision as he stood and clapped Darc on the shoulder, "Come then! Let me show you to the church at least. And... Since you're new to town... to everything, I am sure you will need money. We can discuss terms later." He made a motion across the room to his companions before leading the way and then they were off.

The streets were busier at this time of day with many people walking towards their morning business. As far as Darc could tell, the majority of folk in this section of town were craftsmen of some sort. As they passed by the 5th building he asked the dwarf ahead of him, "Is everybody here a tailor?" The dwarf grunted, "Indeed, most of them are. You must have seen them coming into town. Fields of silverwheat, that is." Darc muttered, "Ah."

The church wasn't far at all, only 4 blocks away. The outside was extravagant with a large mural above the 8 foot high doorway depicting a man holding a book open, rays of light streaming out of its recesses. Darc recognized the crown on his head as the emblem on the town guard. After talking with one of the priests, Thormak got them to heal Darc for a small donation of 2D. The healing process seemed to revolve around 12 priests chanting in prayer as an old man splashed him over the head with specks of water. He noticed that he didn't actually feel any better until three of the muttering priests placed their hands on his shoulders and head. A glowing light escaped the palms of their hands and slowly infused itself into his body. He could feel the skin, muscles, and even parts of his brain reknit themselves as he was overcome with a sheer rush of energy. He felt strong. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt this healthy his entire life. Even the burn marks from yesterday had healed over, leaving nothing but pink, newly minted skin. The healing process itself had only taken a minute, the rest had just been some type of religious ritual. He made sure to pay Thormak the 2D for the donation before they left.

They met back up with the others, not really talking much along the way, although Darc did learn that the man in the mural was a previous king, 10 generations back, of the kingdom he was in now in. The kingdom of Zenith. Now ruled by King Morris the 82nd. He affirmed to himself as they entered the Wobbly Willow. Pulling Darc aside, Thormak had a word with him first in whispered tones, "Hmm, so I will be introducing you to the others in a second. Then we will discuss terms as a group. Don't let the red one bother you, she means well." The dwarf almost seemed worried.

They went over to the table that the others were still sitting at, Thormak in the lead. It seemed like the other two were playing some version of chess, though there were 10 spaces on each side and he didn't really recognize any of the pieces. It seemed like the woman was winning since the elf had a scowl planted on his face. Brightening his expression as they sat down, he saluted Darc, "Zanis, it's a pleasure." The red-haired woman spoke up as she smirked at Zanis, "Eileen." Darc waved a hand in greeting, "Darc."

Thormak spoke up, "Good, now that we are all acquianted, I will explain." Looking towards the others, he continued, "Darc here seems to be a man of the wild. He knows not anything of this country." Now setting his gaze on Darc, he went on, "Darc, we three are adventurers. What that means is that we work for the guild. The guild is-"

Eileen interrupted with a loud groan, as she thumped her fist on the table "Oh please, can we not do this? This is going to take forever. Let's just give him the terms and fill him in later." As she finished she held her finger up in the air and a piece of paper materialized. Darc tilted his head at that, eyebrow raised and then he noticed that the paper's orientation seemed to be following him. Shifting in his seat, moving his head up and down, the paper was still facing him head on. "Umm... what's with that paper?" With an amused look, she answered, "It's a contract. Magical contract."

Darc didn't know what to think. Was it safe? Would he die if he broke the contract? He'd seen magic. Felt it earlier today even. "It's not... dangerous is it?" She gave a pensive look, "What? Don't trust me? Everybody uses them." Still dubious Darc nodded slowly as she continued, "Really, people break them all the time and nothing happens... well... most of the time." Darc raised an eyebrow, "Most of the time?" She waved her hand as if clearing the air, "Sure, sometimes people just die after breaking their contracts. Never really seems to be any evidence left behind for whoever or whatever does it though. Sometimes they just die of heart attacks, other times it's a stray horse stampede or a shooting star slams into their house. But what does it matter anyway? You don't have to sign if you don't want to, just make up your own terms if your not happy with them, just gotta think them all official-like in your head." She focused on the piece of paper and black ink words scribbled themselves onto the surface. "Like so."

Darc squinted his eyes, reading carefully over the words that had just magically appeared. He went over the document once, then twice. With all he had seen so far, he couldn't believe that they would leave this out. Wasn't it really obvious? Or did they just not care? "Yeah, this is gonna be a problem." Eileen looked back at him, pausing her mental contract scribing as she asked, "What part? I'm sure that-"

"I can't read..." Darc hung his head in shame. Those fucking nanobots... why would they translate entire languages but leave out the written word? He was pretty fucking sure he read signs that were supposed to be in Spanish before. All three of them paused as they looked at him. It was Thormak that spoke up in the end after clearing his throat, "Indeed... Well then! We should visit the guild."