*pokes head up.* Has it been more than a week since I posted? Ahh... Did I remember to mention that I am taking 1 hour a day to type my FF? Using my mobile? It was in my Criticism Thread...
So here you go. 1 Chapter. Typed out entirely with a Mobile Phone. My fingers are starting to cramp at the thought (I did cheat a little and use the desktop for the last part though!!).
*
Author: The world is connected. And you don’t need a bunch of old geezers with ponderous looks and long white beards to tell you that.
To go into further detail, things always happen for a reason. Even the nonsensical and whimsical actions of a fairy is premeditated - there is still a desire; an intent which despite its incomprehensibility still counts as a reason. Some reasons might not be as clear-cut compared to others, but it’s not as simple as black and white anyway.
By extension, events can also be caused by other events, the latter taking on the role of the cause in that particular situation. A particular action or decision, whether it is made in a rush or carefully considered and weighed against other options, can set off a series of events on a variable scale. In short, one can lead to many.
And vice versa holds true in this case. A series of events, disjointed or otherwise, from multiple variables and causes that determine the outcome of a single happening. And there are a lot of outcomes. A slight change in variables, a sneeze, a hiccup in the proceedings, could still lead to a drastic shift in an outcome.
And those events could either be random or premeditated to boot. And there you thought you considered every tiny detail in a plan, huh?
In short, there is little to no point in planning too far ahead. Sh!t will always happen. A plan is therefore reduced to nothing more than a guideline – something to be followed closely but dropped immediately as soon as an element in the plan deviates. However, at this point, this is starting to turn into a rant about the little wrenches that get thrown into the plans of life, so let’s get to the story proper.
This particular part of our hero’s adventure begins, not at the location where he currently is, but at the sleepy town with a belligerent streak in the middle of nowhere (since I never really bothered to state where). As our hero Howard fights off his first wave of bounty hunters (the first of many to come), events are starting in other places… Some paths might never cross directly, but will affect the state of others in certain small and unexpected ways. Who knows when certain things will come back to bite you?
In fact, this particular tale… begins with a bang.
**
Alf awoke suddenly and sat up. Blinking, he took stock of his physical faculties, moving his arms and back about and wincing at the sudden piercing pain that resulted from multiple wounds on his body.
It hurt like hell, but it should recover in time. Apparently that flour explosion had a bit more bang than he had expected, but the fact that he did not awake in a cell on a trumped-up charge of what could only begin with several counts of mayhem and arson meant that he had successfully lost the battalion of guards, who might have seen the explosion and left him for dead. And that was a good thing.
Every cloud had a silver lining after all, no matter how grey.
His usual easy-going and casual demeanour now looked bedraggled to the casual observer, his well-toned body covered from head to toe with soot and ash. His now grey hair appeared to be singed, and his left eyebrow had been burnt off. In short, he most certainly looked like a different person. Who needs those newly-fangled beauty treatments to look like a new person when all you have to do is blow up a street?
Other than that, there were no lasting injuries, although he would have to endure some ribbing from his students for a small period of time. And he would make sure it was a short period of time. No amount of ribbing can last that long anyway, it gets really foolish. And the time could be allocated to much better things, like his patented training from hell.
He got up and looked around. The place looked like a flaming tornado just went through. Broken carts and bits of wood that were once furniture were strewn about the place, and merchandise lied badly broken from the blast. Black seemed to be all the rage within the area, with some fashionable pieces of rubble sporting flickering flames which nibbled slowly on their bodies.
There was no one around, and any corpse would have most likely dissolved into grey ash and disappeared by now. That was probably a good thing, considering that there were young and impressionable teenagers playing the game right now, but Alf had seen too many battlefields in his many travels to take any notice of it anyway.
He patted off some of the soot. For once he was actually at a loss as to what to do.
“Ah… I overdid it huh.”
Well, the guards were the ones who overdid it in the first place, coming at him all at once. It was tit for tat, but he didn’t exactly want to involve others in his fights. He probably wasn’t thinking straight when he came up with that plan.
“If the missus ever knows of this, game or no game…” Alf shuddered. The missus was a most fearsome person… Not to mention he was setting a bad example for his young and impressionable daughter. He was a staunch believer of practicing what you preach. Do unto others what you would want to be done unto yourself.
“What the heck did you do this time…” a familiar voice came from the distance. It was soft with glee.
Alf started at the noise and turned around with a slight twinge of guilt, like a naughty child who had been caught red-handed during one of his misdeeds. Puppy was standing behind him, his eyes wide with shock. He had a big grin on his face.
“Finally, I can nail you for something a little more concrete… The commanders and the other guys laughed at me when I told them that I let a newcomer through the gates… Kukuku…” Puppy laughed wickedly. “By the time I am done with you, you are going to be locked up for a long, long time, and perhaps I will finally rise in the force…”
Alf frowned. It was a waste of time to be locked up, he had too much things to do. Besides, it’s just Puppy. He clenched and unclenched his hand. The knuckles made popping noises as they cracked. Alf grinned and took a stance, suddenly deciding on what he wanted to do.
He may not know what he wanted to do for now, but with Puppy, he actually felt pretty damned certain. It was like the equivalent of a ship being anchored against the current.
“WATCH ME SEND YOU FLYING!!!”
Puppy was still lost in his fantasies when a blackened fist went flying at him in a blur, crashing into his head. His face distorted from the force of the blow, and the impact sent him flying several meters before he kissed the ground and rolled a couple more feet. His face was bleeding badly and he had a dazed look on his face. Puppy was certainly down for the count.
Alf watched his handiwork with professional satisfaction and perhaps, he noticed guiltily, with a little bit of glee. He was surely going to get an earful from the missus if she ever heard of it. His knuckles throbbed from the pain, but he ignored that.
Now that he got a little bit of confidence back, he could perhaps start to make plans, like getting out of the city, for one. He was certain that he wouldn’t be welcome back there for a long, long time. And what of the others, the fencing club that had just (re)started? He would have to arrange for their training, now that he wouldn’t be able to oversee it (but that’s another story for later on). The last thing he wanted was for them to revolt. He thought through things slowly and methodically, and finally hatched a proper plan which would suit his needs.
Patting his hands together as though signaling the end of a job well done, Alf walked out of the marketplace. He did not look back as a burnt wooden sign finally gave way with the ropes to which it was tied to and fell to the floor with a loud thud.
***
As Alf walked away, because badasses don’t look at explosions or the destruction that they have wreaked, he failed to notice a scuffling in the debris. It wasn’t too surprising though. That explosion was so powerful that it was surely a certainty that life was certainly extinct around here.
At least, if you are considering conventional circumstances, that is. Unfortunately, this was an MMORPG. We cannot exactly use conventional methods to explain things in a game.
Wisp desperately dug through the badly burnt remains, searching for what little was left of his cart that had been purveying wine, beer and other spirits. Unfortunately, in the massive heat of the flames, the bottles of flammable alcohol had spontaneously combusted, adding to the force of the explosion. Why else did you think that that explosion had been so powerful?
But of course, how was it that Wisp was able to survive that explosion?
He was lucky in which he had noticed the flame of Alf’s match lighting up and quickly created a barrier of roots and vines to defend against the blast, but there wasn’t enough time to build one large enough to cover the cart...
Wisp sighed as he finally came to the inevitable conclusion that there was absolutely nothing that he could salvage from the blast. He sighed, and held his hands together in the Abhaya Mudra, the Buddhist hand gesture of reassurance, blessing and protection, but in this case it was used as a sign of resignation, which is… not quite the intended purpose of that particular Mudra.
“Amitabha. And thus it is fated. Good, good… haaaa...” he sighed again.
Wisp had hoped to gather enough funds to go on a pilgrimage to the Western Continent, and thus put in a lot of effort to properly brew and distill that wide variety of alcoholic beverages. It had been difficult enough to resist the urge to take a sip each time he heard the cheerful jingle of the bottles on the trip to the market place.
“At least I will be able to sleep peacefully now…” Wisp thought to himself.
But as for the question of funds… is it not said that with unshakable faith, one can shift mountains? Yeah, sure, tell that to the satiety bar, which went down no matter how much he believed. The spirit is willing, but the (virtual) flesh is weak.
Very weak indeed. It was truly a far cry from his real life body, which had been conditioned to its peak, sharpened to that of a razor’s edge. He had gone through hellish training to get his body to that state, but he was currently only able to bring out 5% of his combat potential in this game. There is a reason why using martial arts is certainly an unwise move, since the muscles in a virtual body are not conditioned and are not suited to using advanced moves in the first place.
That was probably another reason why he chose to pick this game up. Going back to the basics is often an important aspect for continuing to grow in Martial Arts.... At least, that’s what was said in the movies.
He had spent the most of his youth in seclusion, honing his skills under the strict supervision of the abbot. And the Abbot took it really seriously.
“Young Chang Jiang, in exchange for me not calling you some damn insect, you better listen to anything I tell you.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You have led a life of depravity. You must shed the shell that craved earthly desire behind.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Do you say anything other than ‘Yes, Master’?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Then please stop saying that. You just said it thrice within a minute.”
“Yes, Mas -“ Chang Jiang stopped mid sentence, quailing under the Abbot’s suddenly sharp look.
“Yes, Abbot.”
The young Chang Jiang had cupped his hands in respect. It was probably out of consideration for doting but unwise parents that he must avoid getting a name change. And “Yes, Master” was still probably his most used phrase throughout his training.
And indeed he had enjoyed the change of pace since then. In the early morning, he would spend the time in quiet contemplation, and then proceed to perform his daily chores. Then for the rest of the day he would condition his body and practice martial arts techniques with the rest of the group under the watchful eye of an instructor. He felt himself growing stronger and stronger over time, and relished the idea of it.
Of course, the diet was simple (mantou and water for breakfast, noodles or rice and vegetables for lunch, and no dinner was served), and alcohol was forbidden. It wasn’t easy at first, but as he immersed himself deeper and deeper into the training, he began to forget the taste of all the wine and good food he had taken in his previous life. They were but a distant memory, shoved into the very deepest corner of his mind. But not forgotten. Little did he know that it would come back to haunt him.
Eventually, Chang Jiang felt that he was starting to hit a plateau. He was not growing as fast as he would have liked, even though he raised the intensity of the training. He decided to keep pushing himself to the very limits. Eventually he hurt himself during training and found himself in front of the abbot again.
“You silly boy, did you really try to undergo training that only master practitioners would undertake?”
“Yes, Master. It was most unwise of me and I will not repeat this mistake. I was impatient.”
“As long as you have learnt your lesson. However, what did I always tell you?”
“To not rashly depend on brute force all the time but to look at problems with an objective eye.”
“Exactly. Go and reflect upon yourself, young Chang Jiang. I suspect you will be leaving us very soon.”
And thus Chang Jiang spent a week under a waterfall, which seemed like the right thing to do. The protagonist in the old martial arts movies he watched in his youth always seemed to do that.
At first it was dark (he had his eyes closed). And wet.
And finally… he saw a bright flash of white light as he suddenly had an epiphany, a light at the end of the dark and wet tunnel.
And he brought his extremely wrinkly and prune-like self before the abbot again, dripping wet and with a small sack containing his few possessions.
“Master, I regret to inform you that I must leave the temple for a long time.”
“Very good, young Chang Jiang. But please give me the reason. Answer correctly.”
Chang Jiang gulped. The abbot came down hard on wrong answers.
But he didn’t spend a week under the waterfall for nothing, and he was not going back there for certain. He took a deep breath, and committed:
“I must go back and banish the ghosts of my past.”
“WRONG ANSWER!!”
“EH?!”
And he was shot down immediately.
And thus he was thrown out of the temple. The Abbot fixed a gentle expression at Chang Jiang as he disappeared into the distance.
“You have to embrace them, young Chang Jiang. Your answer was partially right, but sadly it was a 1 mark question and I don’t award ½ marks. You are still young, Chang Jiang, and a young man has no business wasting his youth and vigor away in a place like this. Thus you must spread your wings and take flight.”
The Abbot touched the earth where Chang Jiang took his first steps away from the temple in many years, straightened up and performed a mudra. “Amitabha. And hence it has been spoken. Farewell, my son, and may our paths cross again soon…”
And so, with that incredibly whimsical decision by the Abbot, Chang Jiang was thrown out into the outside world to fend for himself. Unfortunately the world had changed drastically during his time in isolation. He managed, in a fashion, to fit back into society, and soon somehow became prosperous enough that he could afford a capsule and the monthly subscription. But at this point I have gone seriously off point, so let’s fast forward back to right now.
Wisp looked sadly at the remains of the ground. The ground in front of him suddenly squirmed, and a strange creature came out. It resembled a small plant with a cutesy cartoony face drawn on. It blinked and looked around, stretching its limbs as it yawned and scratched its behind (if it even had a behind).
When it saw the burnt marketplace, its face brightened up considerably.
“ASH!! FERTILE GROUND TO GROW!!”
The plant dived into the ash and threw it upwards like a treasure hunter who had just discovered a vast fortune that wasn’t his in the first place.
“COME ON, THE ASH IS MIGHTY FINE!!”
“ASH!!”
“SWEET FERTILE GROUND!!”
“OUR PROGENY SHALL PROSPER!!”
“WE SHALL GROW LARGE AND ADVANCE OUR CAUSE!! FREEDOM!!”
And more of those plant-like things suddenly appeared out of nowhere and joined their comrade in the soot, gamboling and frolicking about in the soot and ash like children on a snowy day.
Wisp sighed. “Honestly, guys. You guys get really happy over simple things like that…”
“WE ARE NOT CALLED “GUYS”!! WE ARE KARPOI, GRAIN SPIRITS SERVING THE FIGHTING GODDESS OF AGRICULTURE CERES!!” The Karpoi shouted with glee, eating the ash with much relish.
“I DON’T KNOW ANY FIGHTING GODDESS OF AGRICULTURE!!! YOU ARE JUST SOME FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION, AN ILLUSION OR HALLUCINATION!!” And Wisp turned tail and fled, with the little Karpoi following closely behind him.
“GET BACK HERE, OH CHOSEN ONE!! You will be the one to free us from the slavery of the fields!”
“I don’t know anything anything about being a chosen one!!”
And so, being chased by the horde of tiny grain spirits that took care to imbibe as much ash and soot as possible before chasing him, Wisp left the marketplace. A bottle of wine that he hadn’t noticed rolled out into the floor.
****
The bottle of wine tumbled across the floor, having been kicked in his panic by Frederick, who was on the run from something. Something had managed to break past the guards, beat the prize fighter that he had hired as a bodyguard, and break his way into his mansion.
All with just a short spear in his hand.
And thus he was forced to run. Which was a rather refreshing experience for him, normally he would be the one that makes other people run.
Well, I said refreshing, but that’s taking it a bit too casually. Let’s go for something like “so bloody terrifying that you will wet your pants if you are not careful”.
Frederick was simply a thug. Well, he was the leader of a gang of thugs that went about the City of Sharkbait extorting money from his inhabitants, but a thug nonetheless. He had enjoyed a rather rose-coloured life until an upstart group started to impinge upon his territory. Bit by bit, slowly but surely, they managed to take over quite a sizable portion of the city.
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And now they had taken a hit on him, it seemed. And that particular assassin did not bother with the sneaking around, instead going through the front door. And pretty much every other guard that thought to stand in his way. And the bodyguards.
But he had no time to think about this now. He made his way to the secret passage, which is entered through a trap-door in the room that he had thought to install in case of emergencies such as this. It led out through a tunnel into a secluded part of the City, where a stash of supplies and money waited for him and there was a wide maze of alleyways that he could go through to get out once there.
He found a hidden clasp and tugged at it, revealing the trapdoor that had been cleverly concealed into the floor...
“You are Frederick, alias the Tiger Shark?”
A voice suddenly came from behind him. Shocked, Frederick turned around and saw a young man behind him. He was of average height, wiry figure and had short and spiky black hair. He had what some might call a handsome face, with slitted eyes and a well defined chin.
A sneer distorted his handsome (?) features as he looked down upon his quarry.
“You... how did you get in here?” Frederick was pretty sure that there wasn’t anyone else in the room.
“Your bodyguard had the ability to turn invisible right?”
“Ah...” Frederick reminded. The bodyguard he hired had this annoying penchant for suddenly behind him. But what did that have to do with anything?
“And he enlisted the help of a powerful wind spirit to do it.”
Was that the trick? Flabbergasted, Frederick looked at the young man again, who seemed to have enough potential to become an evil overlord (a proper villain should always go into an evil monologue after all). He put his hand in his pocket, seeing a chance to escape.
“Unfortunately, a spirit conjurer was the wrong kind of class to face off against me.”
Frederick dug around in his pocket, and slipped his fingers into the brass knuckle he kept there. He grinned and swivelled while still crouching, jabbing at the young man’s knee...
*Tink!!*
“?!”
“Dude, I wasn’t finished.” With amazing speed and hand-eye coordination, the young man had blocked the knuckle with his spear. “The reason why using a spirit user as a bodyguard was a bad thing...”
Frederick was able to take a closer look at the spear. It had a leaf-shaped blade as the spear head, and had a tassel of red horse-hair lashed just below. To his surprise, he saw small gusts of wind circulating around the spear head, and realised what might have happened... The young man smirked as he noted Frederick’s sudden comprehension.
“Ah, you seem to have noticed. Well, then... Otouto (younger brother)."
Batting the hand aside, the young man moved like a gust of wind and suddenly appeared at Frederick’s side, jabbing the spear into Frederick’s ribs beside he could respond.
*Shiiik*
“Guh!!”
The spear pierced deeply into his side, reaching the heart and killing Frederick instantly. With a final sigh, Frederick collapsed onto the floor and faded away in a grey light, leaving behind his prized brass knuckle as loot. The young man withdrew the spear and supported it lightly on his shoulders, sighing to himself as he did so.
“Ugh... Otouto, that was a bit too easy. Isn’t there a proper challenge out there for a change?” the young man complained to himself as he walked out of the mansion where Frederick lived and out into the streets.
The world is a large one , aniki (older brother). I’m sure you will find something to do. A voice responded. It seemed to be coming from the spear, and judging by the fact that passersby were shooting strange looks at the young man as he conversed, only he could hear it.
“Ugh... the path to forming your own harem is a long one, Otouto.”
Indeed, aniki. Therefore you must keep your spirits up. The ladies will not take to a guy who looks like he is down on his luck. The voice chided the young man as it continued: Now, back straight!! The young man stiffened his posture. Look sharp!! Be confident!! The voice proceeded to nag at the young man.
“Oh, be quiet, Otouto... Hmm?”
As the young man proceeded to try and ignore the nagging from the disembodied voice, he noticed a piece of paper fluttering in the wind, gradually landing on the floor in front of him. The young man picked it up, and took a cursory glance, his eyes widening as he did.
What is it?
“200 gold? I could do a lot of things with that kind of money...” the young man murmured to himself.
But more importantly, aniki, that guy they call the “Crazy Eagle”... Do you think he might be... The voice had a questioning tone to it.
“Well, it says here in this notice that he uses a lance. There’s a good chance, but he could just be a Spear Warrior...”. The young man sighed as he said that.
Don’t be so negative, aniki, the voice scolded again. Ladies don’t like men who have such a negative outlook.
“Will you give it a rest about the ladies already, Otouto. More importantly, the gold will last us a really long time, and I could use 200 gold to do a lot of things.” the young man straightened up, and carefully folded up and kept the piece of paper in his pocket.
“It says here on that notice that this guy was headed West. So I supposed that is where we are going as well... But first, let’s go turn in that bounty quest and get restocked on supplies...” the young man stretched luxuriously as he did that. “Man, it has been a drag thus far, but this could get pretty interesting.”
The young man fixed a happy smile on his face as he slung the short spear on a holster on his back.
You think that there are pretty ladies in the West, aniki?
“Otouto, I’m sure that there might be a lady in it for you somewhere if that guy is what we think he is. Now let’s get moving.”
Yay!!
And with that, the strange duo consisting of a young man and a disembodied voice that only he can hear headed to the central part of the city of Sharkbait to turn in the quest.
*****
The little band of beginners were starting to feel a little self-conscious in their newly obtained equipment. They were drawing curious looks from passers-by as they walked through the city, and several curious players had gathered next to them, thinking that there might be a special event going on.
Each member was dressed in a simple suit of chainmail with a nondescript surcoat over it. The only form of ornamentation was a simplistic looking device, a cross of arms depicting a pair of crossed swords piercing a fire-breathing serpent. A rapier, a slender, slightly pointed sword, completed the set. All in all, they looked pretty similar to one another in terms of uniform, other than some slight differences. It was as if a group of Musketeers had appeared and were patrolling the place.
Despite the fact that the chainmail looked badly made and the surcoats were badly frayed, looking at that group created a sense of awe-inspiring confidence and security. Their expressions looked pretty grim and battle-hardened, as though they had gone through many hardships. And indeed, they had... in a fashion.
A young man of average build stood at the forefront of that strange procession. With white hair framing a youthful face and grey eyes, he didn’t quite give off the authoritative air of the leader, but rather the impression of the older brother taking care of his 30-something younger siblings.
The group soon found itself at the Marketplace... and their jaws dropped at the sight.
“Right.” the man said briskly, not noticing the destruction at first... “Aramis, you take 5 of the guys and sell off the pile of rabbit leathers and fox furs that we have picked up. Porthos, try and ask around for an... Oh my god, what did Coach do now?”
… or maybe he did and tried thinking that it was a figment of his imagination until he couldn’t bear to ignore it any further.
“What, Athos, a marketplace blown to smithereens not obvious enough for you?” Porthos, a broad-shouldered youth, chuckled as he spoke.
“I can sell the drops to a general store instead, but it will bring back less money than if we sold it to a more specialized store like a clothes shop.” Aramis, who had a more slim and wiry build, supplied softly.
“No, keep the furs for now, we need the money since we have to support this many people...” Athos pinched the bridge of his nose as he racked his brains for ideas about what to do next. He pointed at the marketplace. “Porthos, take a small group of people and ask if we can help out in some way...”
“It’s not quite our business, you know?” one of the “Musketeer” Corps members spoke up, causing much general nodding.
“I agree. We shouldn’t be cleaning up after Coach... We are already doing enough of that in real life.” Porthos grumbled.
The Musketeer Corps had suffered greatly under their coach, who had a whimsical and violent approach to doing things. In fact, the cause of their current predicament is actually due to his actions yet again. (but that’s a story for another time.)
Athos frowned at the grumbling. He was a most responsible youth who thought that helping people is important, but as of now taking care of his group came first.
“You guys are right. Nevertheless, we must try and take something from this incident. Life’s experiences must be constantly sought. Any suggestions? And no, Planchet, we will not be looting the place, so put your hand down.”
“Oh.” Planchet, looking dejected, put his hand down.
“Anybody else? Yes?” Athos pointed at a girl with orange hair and blue eyes. A newcomer to the group, she had named herself Marie, and had kept her character customization to a minimum. Most of the males in the corps thought she looked better for it.
“Uh... what do you think caused the explosion?” she asked nervously. Being the newest member of the club, she was clearly unaware of Coach Zhang's true nature.
“Quite frankly, Marie, I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. Coach did some crazy things back in my time, so such a thing is actually pretty standard, considering that it was Coach doing it.” Athos laughed. “Nevertheless, we can take quite a fair bit from the cause of that explosion. As far as I know, Coach is not a mage. No, knowing him, he’d never ever learn magic. Believing in the strength of your fists and blade is important, he will say. As such, being able to cause an explosion of this magnitude without the aid of magic will surely help our farming speed.”
“We can also ask an Alchemist for help on that matter.” another member pointed out.
“Hmmm... Agreed, since it fits well into that other matter.” Having thus obtained much feedback, Athos decided on his next move and gave out orders. “Alright, Porthos, you take a small group and search the other portions of the city for an Alchemist. According to our sources, there should be a potion-seller in the East part of the city. If my hunch is right, that’s where the Alchemist should be as well... Get moving... and Porthos, there’s no need to salute.”
“Right you are, senior.” Porthos, grinning but still maintaining his salute anyway, motioned to a few of the musketeers, and they set off in a steady jog.
Athos gave a few more instructions, and dispatched the group over the city to accomplish a few more essential things. When the last "Musketeer" Corps member finally disappeared into the hustle and bustle of the city and he was finally alone, his posture sagged, and he sought out the nearest fountain and sat there, burying his face into his hands.
“Haaaaa.... Finally I can relax, if only just a little.”
He was extremely exhausted. Leadership is never an easy thing, even in a game. People often look to you for guidance, and there’s often that nagging feeling that you may have messed up somewhere...
He had the most experience when it came to dealing with Coach Zhang, so he stepped up and volunteered as leader. Again. And the others were happy enough to let him do so.
Why didn’t the others stop me!! He wanted to shout, but when he saw the tired faces of the other members, his heart softened and he went ahead with it. Somebody had to do it after all. If not him, then who?
Since then, it hadn’t been smooth sailing since he was dealing with a varied group with myriad talents and abilities.
Indeed, the uniform was pretty misleading, Athos thought to himself, as he recalled the grumblings of the “Musketeer” that took on the role of the group’s exclusive Blacksmith. The coats of Chainmail were a waste on the non-warrior classes and took forever to make, but at least his blacksmithing proficiency rose by quite a fair amount from crafting the gear. It had not been easy to procure enough iron for him to do that though.
Several other members of the corps thus also took on other jobs citing the reason of necessity and team imbalance, which was just as well. A well-balanced team is the key to playing as a large group, he thought.
With quick and experienced hand gestures, he brought up the game interface and activated the whisper option, tapping on a name that glowed blue, signifying that the user was online.
“It’s me. Have you got the plans worked out?” he spoke clearly, taking pains to enunciate his words.
To the casual observer, it might seem that Athos was talking to nothing but thin air. However, most players know that such an action was merely the use of the whisper option, and as such, an action like this is commonplace throughout the game.
“Yes, I have sent Grimaud over to learn how to make it from you. And I understand that it needs that stuff to work... We are currently procuring the services of an Alchemist to help us with that... Yes, I agree that it has been hard on me... Yeah, thanks for your help again, bye.”
Athos deactivated the Whisper and nodded to himself, patting his hands together as he stood up.
“Right... now I should go back to the marketplace and see if I can do anything to help...”
He was still a responsible youth after all. Public Service Points were a bonus.
"Athos." A voice came from a distance.
Athos turned around at the noise, and saw another Musketeer Corps Member. This one had a scrawny build, black hair, black eyes and tanned skin, reminiscent of his Mongolian heritage. The suit of chainmail and surcoat didn't suit him at all, but his black eyes were sharp and had a spark of life to it, giving off the impression of ridiculous vitality.
This one always has good eyes, Athos noted to himself as he looked upon the strongest fencer among the juniors, who had taken on the name D'Artagnan in game. Athos nodded at D'Artagnan, giving him leave to speak.
D'Artagnan inclined his head in acknowledgement and began to speak in a monotone:
"As per your instructions, my team has accomplished the archery practice that you have set us. We practiced with the bow for the first week, but switched to the crossbow afterwards. Overall we have obtained a fair amount of strength and agility from drawing the crossbows."
"Very good." Argos remarked dryly. "Our side is also just about done with preparations, we just need to obtain a large supply from an alchemist." He rubbed his hands with glee. "Now... let us become proper musketeers."
And thus phase 1 of his experimental plan has been completed. Satisfied with the progress he had made, Athos motioned to D'Artagnan.
"Get your team to the fields and hunt foxes until sunset for a little experience. Then go and see Treville. He will have a hot meal waiting for you."
"Understood." D'Artagnan inclined his head once more and jogged off to find his friends. Athos nodded approvingly. He knew that D'Artagnan would commit full effort to accomplish his targets, and respected him for it.
"If it all goes well, maybe we can hunt at the nearby dungeon by the end of this week..."
The prospect sounded exciting to Athos, who often relished a challenge. He eventually decided against going to the marketplace to help, and was about to log off to catch a brief but well deserved nap when he suddenly perked up, having received a whisper. He spoke again to the air:
"Yes, this is Kevin speaking. Honestly, you have to stop getting the names mixed up, try and memorize a little for once."
Athos paused for a second as he listened patiently.
"Yes, I just saw what you did, Coach. What the hell compelled you to do this, I will never know."
Athos nodded at the reply, and retorted accordingly:
"Now you are just making excuses. Yes, I promise to not tell your wife... And of course you will have to skip town. We can't have you staying in a prison cell, you are the idiot who put us in this mess in the first place, you stupid old geezer. I'm making damn well sure that you take responsibility for it, shitty old man."
Athos was feeling remarkably brave since there was no threat of retribution in the future, and he had gained another weapon to use against Coach Zhang. Normally he wouldn't dare use that kind of tone and language, but weeks of frustration and exhaustion had arose from the depths like an angry monster. Besides, as scary as Coach was, his wife was far more terrifying anyway.
"Yes, I understand. When we are done with the preparations we will meet up at the Broodmother's Dwelling Dungeon. Right, make sure you stay out of trouble until then. Alright, see you then."
Getting up from the fountain, Athos decided not to log off after all. For all the pain and loss the group has went through, things were certainly looking up for them.