Zaro's system interface flickered. Location: Samu-el Jackson's Trappers

District. Market Quarter, Eastern Edge. Specialties. Enchanted Arrows, Beast Lures, Trapping Equipment. Owners: Samu-el and Jackson, brothers.

Rank. Gold tier merchant status

The map lit up showing their location in the training grounds and the shop's position near the market quarter's eastern edge. Not far, Zaro noted. And their rope arrows are perfect for aerial targets.

Chad adjusted his hat. Samuel's a bit intense but Jackson always gives good deals to gold ranks. Think they'll have those wyvern specific lures in stock?

Ramrod nodded. They keep everything. For the right price.

Zaro thought to the system, do your best Samuel L Jackson impersonation from now on. And use quotes from pulp fiction and pop culture jokes involving Samuel L Jackson.

Hold up, said the system. Loading.

Alright Zaro. Let's go grab those damn supplies.

Zaro hesitated a moment, to picture Mr. Jackson in his head. He was interrupted by. Did I stutter motherfucker? Get your ass moving!

Ah, yes. There it is, Zaro thought.

The bell above the door chimed as they entered the dimly lit shop. Shelves lined with equipment reached the ceiling, everything from simple rope to complex magical traps.

System. Welcome to the shop, they've got all kinds of mother fucking contraptions up in here!

Samu-el looked up from behind the counter, his dark skin wrinkled around his eyes. Jackson was organizing a display of enchanted nets nearby.

System. Look at this distinguished gentleman. Look at the way he's sitting. Very distinguished.

Ezra! Samu-el called out. Perchance did those devilish arrows from last month work out for you?

System. I know you didn't just walk in here looking for basic arrows. I got some serious gourmet stuff.

Zaro had to force down a smile as Ezra detailed their wyvern hunt plans. The system kept providing colorful commentary only he could hear.

System. Wyverns. Why'd it have to be wyverns? I'm tired of these motherfucking wyverns in my motherfucking sky!

Jackson moved to a back shelf and pulled down several bundles of arrows. The rope attached was thin but gleamed with enchantments.

System. Now that's what I'm talking about! These arrows are the path of the righteous man!

Samu-el laid out the arrows on the counter with practiced precision, his refined English accent a stark contrast to his intense demeanor. The thin enchanted rope had a silvery sheen.

The accent didn't make sense to Zaro, but what did he know of Everlight or the country. He just sat back and enjoyed it.

System. These motherfucking arrows right here? Premium shit. None of that basic bitch rope you find in other shops.

Right then, for wyverns you'll want the heavy draw weight, Jackson explained in his equally proper English accent. The enchantment activates on impact, quite spectacular really.

System. English motherfucker! Do you speak it? Tell them about the goddamn anchor runes!

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I must say these lures are particularly fresh, Samu-el added, delicately pulling out several crystal vials filled with a swirling red mist. Harvested from a male during mating season. Quite potent.

System. Mmm, mmm bitch. That is a tasty lure! Vincent! We happy? *pause* Yeah, we happy.

Zaro bit his lip to keep from laughing as he examined the merchandise. The contrast between the brothers' refined English manners and the system's Samuel L. Jackson commentary was becoming harder to ignore.

System. Look at this distinguished motherfucker examining my wares like he knows what the fuck he's looking at. I like you motherfucker, so I'm gonna tell you what you need.

I must say, Samu-el began adjusting his cravat, for proper wyvern hunting you'll require a full complement. Twenty rope arrows at minimum, two vials of lure, and might I suggest.

System. Here comes the expensive shit. Watch this refined motherfucker try to upsell you.

He reached under the counter and produced an ornate silver whistle on a chain. For discerning hunters, when price is no object of course, we offer the Windcaller's Whistle. Creates quite the advantage during aerial combat.

System. Oh shit! He pulled out the fancy motherfucking whistle! That's some next level shit right there!

Jackson stepped forward, his accent crisp. The whistle creates a concentrated burst of air, rather useful for adjusting a wyvern's flight path. Though at 50 gold pieces, it's not for everyone.

System: Fifty gold?! Motherfucker that whistle better make wyverns tap dance!

The arrows are 2 gold each, quite reasonable considering the enchantments, Samu-el continued. The lures, 15 gold per vial. Standard pricing for premium goods.

System: Now that's what I call a pretty fucking penny. But them rope arrows are worth every goddamn coin. Trust me on this shit.

Observe, Samu-el said, lifting the whistle. When one finds oneself beneath a diving wyvern, a precise blast upward disrupts their wing patterns. Quite elegant really.

System. Ain't nothing elegant about fucking up a wyvern's day! But that's some tactical shit right there!

Jackson moved his hands to demonstrate. The whistle creates a focused column of air, roughly three meters in diameter. Most effective when aimed at their wing joints or chest cavity.

System. Did this motherfucker just science the shit out of wyvern hunting? I like where this is going!

And when paired with the rope arrows, Samu-el added with practiced refinement, one can quite literally control their descent. The whistle forces them to bank, while the arrows prevent full recovery.

System. Oh NOW you're speaking my language! Coordinate that shit! Make these scaly bastards DANCE!

Ramrod studied the whistle thoughtfully. Combined with my Impact Shell. A device smile was plastered on his face.

Precisely! Jackson exclaimed. The force of their interrupted dive transfers directly into your charge storage. Rather devastating combination.

System: Hold up, did this orc just figure out how to turn a wyvern's momentum into a motherfucking spirit bomb? That's some advanced shit right there!

Right then, Samu-el tallied the items. Twenty rope arrows at 2 gold each, two lures at 15 gold, and the Windcaller's Whistle at 50. That comes to 120 gold total.

System. Time for someone's wallet to get a motherfucking workout!

Jackson smiled broadly. I say, spending over 100 gold does qualify you for our special promotion. He reached under the counter and produced a shimming purple potion. Our Merchant's Gambit - quite the entertaining brew.

System. Random effects? This some straight up Dungeons & Dragons bullshit right here!

Samu-el's refined tone took on a hint of amusement. Could grant you extraordinary speed, might make you rather tipsy, perhaps turn your next attack into gelatin. There's also a chance of a level 13 random projectile or... he paused dramatically, twenty minutes of rather fetching blue skin.

System. You telling me this fancy-ass potion might turn someone into a motherfucking Smurf?!

When it came time to pay, Zaro quickly touched his nose. Nose goes! The others caught on instantly - Ezra's finger shot to her nose, Chad's hand barely moving his hat to touch his. Ramrod looked confused as everyone stared at him.

System. HAHA! Big man got played! That's what you get for being slow on the draw!

Ramrod sighed and reached for his coin purse, but the others were already counting out their shares. Thirty gold each.

The orc's shoulders relaxed. Though he did mutter something about learning human customs under his breath.

System. Look at these wholesome motherfuckers splitting the bill. Brings a tear to my eye.

Jackson wrapped their purchases with practiced precision. Everything properly labeled and secured.

Zaro said, where should we get a bite? Chad jumped in with, let's go to the Meat and Greet. They have solid food there.

At The Meat and Greet, they settled into a corner booth. The tavern's walls were lined with trophy heads from various beasts, each mounted above gleaming wooden panels. Lanterns cast a warm glow across the polished tables, and the kitchen's fire pit filled the room with warmth and the sounds of sizzling meat.

The waitress saw Chad and grinned, adjusting her apron, the usual? He adjusted his hat with a nod, yeah, make it 4 for my friends. She returned with four large steaks, the meat perfectly seared with a pink center, seasoned with herbs and garlic. Steam rose from the hot plates as she set down four tankards of dark ale, the foam still settling.

System. Now this is my kind of establishment. Good food, good drinks, good company. This is some wholesome shit right here.

Between bites of perfectly cooked steak, Ezra looked at Zaro, her fingers absently tracing shadow patterns on the table's surface, we've shared our stories, but we don't know much about you.

Zaro took a drink, gathering his thoughts, I'm from far away. Was a miner there. He paused, the memories weren't pleasant, we didn't have much growing up. People, weren't, kind.

System. Getting real up in here. Keep it together big guy.

I never really thought about having a future, Zaro continued, his hand tightening around the tankard, just surviving day to day. Then I found Everlight. He looked at his companions, found the void. Found all of you. Now? He smiled, now I just want to get stronger and have fun doing it.

The others nodded, understanding in their eyes. Chad raised his tankard, his hat casting shadows in the lantern light, to getting stronger.

To having fun, Ezra added, her eyes glinting with reflected flame.

To found family, Ramrod rumbled, his massive hand making the tankard look small.

System, I'm not crying, you're crying motherfucker.

As they finished their meals, Chad mentioned a large house for sale near the training grounds. Four bedrooms, good location. The place had a basement perfect for equipment storage, a courtyard for sparring, and enough space in the common room for planning missions. They spent the rest of the evening making plans, talking about shared spaces and training areas. Ramrod was particularly excited about the reinforced support beams - strong enough to handle an orc's weight during indoor training.

They parted ways under the stars, full of food and possibilities. Tomorrow would bring wyverns and challenges, but tonight they were just friends heading home. Ezra's shadow magic danced briefly around their feet as they said their goodbyes, and Chad's hat tipped one final time before they separated.

System, Now that's how you end a chapter, motherfucker.