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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 7)

The dinner Weiss and Winter had was a simple affair, quick flame roasts and brief plunges into boiling oil, salads tossed together with whatever ingredients were available, and bread the two of them recognized from earlier in the morning, testing how long the fields could keep them oven fresh and warm.

It was hard not to notice that instead of the small army of maids and butlers eager to serve them, it was just the one butler handling drinks, with drones floating about serving plates, carving meats, and putting portions onto their plates.

As a matter of fact, there were a lot more drones than people everywhere else, too.

“Short on staff tonight?” Weiss asked as said butler poured her a glass of juice.

“Unfortunately so, Ms. Schnee,” he replied as he expertly twisted the bottle, spilling not a drop. “Chef Naomi wishes to beg your forgiveness; her more elaborate creations require a not insignificant amount of support and assistance, two things she did not have tonight.”

Winter daintily picked up a slice of meat with her fork, put it into her mouth and chewed. She hummed with pleasure, smiling. “Please tell her not to worry,” she said after she swallowed. “It's as excellent as I remember.”

The butler smiled, if a little nervously. “She will be very pleased to hear that. Do you require anything else, Mses. Schnee?”

“Just one more thing: had Father ever requested our presence again, after breakfast?” Winter asked.

The butler shook his head. “No, Ms. Schnee. Mr. Schnee has been incredibly busy in his office since he left the dining room earlier this morning; he's even had his own meals sent there. I assume it might have to do with Ms. Weiss'… adventure.”

He paused. “It's the talk of Candela—all of Avalon, even.”

Winter nodded. “Thank you, you're dismissed,” she said.

The butler bowed, before leaving the room as fast as professional decorum would let him. The drones and the cameras aside, it was essentially just the two of them alone in the dining room. They looked around just to be sure, waited a few moments, then dropped their polite smiles and amiable looking expresisons.

“Oh damn it, I hadn't thought about the press!” Weiss mumbled, angrily stabbing a slice of meat on her plate.

Winter sighed. “Neither did I; I'd suggest disguises and decoys, but they have the manpower to watch every last transport going to and from here like hawks, and we don't.”

“They're going to be all over this…” Weiss grumbeld. “Why couldn't Father be satisfied with a nice penthouse in Asgard?”

“Because every other trillionaire in Candela has a penthouse there,” Winter replied flatly.

“Are we still going out tonight?” Weiss asked, before shoved food into her mouth and chewed without pleasure.

“Definitely,” Winter said. “I say, let the media hound us: keep us trained on their cameras all night if they want, we'll just ignore their questions as we shop for plushies! And if the Keeper happens to come for us both while they're recording? Then that's what they get for wanting footage so badly!”

She chuckled. “Wouldn't that be quite the headline? 'Schnees Slain By Supposedly Mythological Being!'” she said, spreading her hands apart in the air. “Footage withdrawn for causing permanent mental scarring and psychological trauma in all who view it.”

Weiss nodded slowly. “Hey Winter?” she asked.

“Yes, Weiss?”

“Why are you suddenly, constantly making jokes about our impending doom?”

Winter smiled at her. “It's the only way I can think or talk about it without bursting into tears,” she whispered.

Weiss and Winter stepped out from the elevator and into the manor's garage, fed, bathed, and dressed in fresh clothes. It was easy to tell from a glance that a large number of rovers and even one of their father's private jets were missing, which wasn't too surprising.

What was was one of the traffic coordinators coming to meet them personally.

“Good evening, Mses. Schnee,” the cyborg said. “Planning to leave the premises?”

“We are, actually,” Winter replied. “Just a spontaneous shopping trip to Candela! We'll be back before morning.”

The coordinator nodded. “Mr. Schnee has actually requested that you both stay in the manor for the time being; he has asked us to clarify that this goes for all residents and staff, not just you two.”

“As if that makes it any better...” Weiss grumbled under her breath.

The two of them ignored her.

“'Requested' you say?” Winter asked she said as she stepped up closer to him. “As in, it's not a formal lockdown?”

“Yes,” they replied. “In my opinion though, Ms. Schnee, it would still be best if you delayed this trip until further notice--”

Too fast for anyone but the most observant and alert eyes could notice, Winter pressed a sizable amount of Uroch bills into the coordinator's hands.

“--However, I can not stop you from doing as you please,” they continued, discretely tightening their fingers around the money. “Do you have an estimated return time? Mr. Schnee does not appreciate vehicles being checked out 'Indefinitely,' more so with recent events.”

“I'm sure he's got more important things on his mind to think about than one more measly rover,” Winter replied. “It's not like we won't be back, right?”

The coordinator nodded. “As you wish, Ms. Schnee” they said, before a holographic screen appeared before their eyes—a visual marker for those without the same implants as them that they were busy communicating with others or the manor's various systems.

“Since when did you learn to do that?” Weiss asked as continued onto the loading dock.

Winter smirked. “Queensguard. The Uroch may not be the most valuable commodity these days, but it's certainly the most versatile.”

“What else did they teach you?”

“I'm not allowed to say,” Winter replied. “But I can say they really meant 'ready for anything.'”

Less than a minute later, they were off, strapped securely to their seats, listening to the quiet hum of the engine and the crunch of rock underneath the tank treads as they were gently jostled about. Schnee Company rovers may have been a serious step up from the stock models, but there was only so much you could do to compensate for terrain this rocky, battered, and beaten by the elements on a daily basis.

“Any other business you want to get out of the way, hopefully before the Keeper comes for us?” Winter asked. “Friends you'd like to hang out with one last time, or just say goodbye to? Places you want to see? Things you want to experience before it's all over?”

“No,” Weiss replied, “I'll just tag along with whatever you have in mind after you get your plushies and I get my cake shake,”

“You sure?”

“Very,” Weiss replied.

After all, it was hard to do any of those, when you didn't have any friends, and all you've ever wanted to do is leave here , see what it'd be like to start anew somewhere else .

As expected, the media knew exactly which loading bay they were entering the city from, and were prepared to mob a nd rain questions down upon them, physically fighting with one another for the prized “First Footage.”

Through a mix of the security teams and drones that were obliged to keep the area free of obstruction and especially dense human traffic, Winter's knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, and timely mentions of the Keeper of the Grove granting her a speed and strength Weiss never knew she was capable of, the sisters cut through the crowds like a missile, straight into the waiting backseat of a VIP hover- cab that had been waiting for them .

The vehicle's “crash bubble” activated, a wave of energy repelling any reporters and their camera-bots who had decided to take a desperate last shot at an interview. Weiss looked out the window and smiled as they flew off, knocking down several of their fellow journalists like haphazardly placed bowling pins.

As the cab began to rise up into the air, its AI appeared before them , a holographic bust of a young attractive woman of Oriental descent. “Welcome back to Candela, Mses. Winter and Weiss Schnee! We of the MTC sincerely apologize for not being able to assist you in circumvent the media--”

“Slash Command, AI Personality Switch: 'Antonio Perrero.'” Weiss said.

The hologram shifted and shimmered, before turning into that of an Italian-American man in his late 40's to early 50's, balding hair, a wrinkled face, friendly face with a big, round nose, bright eyes, and a bushy handlebar mustache.

“Eeeey, it's Weiss and Winter!” he said with a thick, comically exaggerated accent. “Been too long since I saw you two together—ain't right for family to ever be apart for so long like that... anyway, where to, gals?”

Winter sat up and smiled . “To the Plushie Palace as fast as you legally can, Tony!” she replied . “I've got a collection of toys to rebuild and return to their rightful places on my bed!”

“Hah! Told you you'd be back there one of these days!” Tony said as the cab began to move through Candela's skyline. “And here were my handlers, telling me I'm wasting space, saving routes people haven't taken in a while. I tell 'em right back--”

“--If you didn't want me saving so many shortcuts, then why'd you give me so many petabytes worth of memory, huh?!” Weiss and Winter playfully griped alongside Tony, before they all devolved into giggles or loud, bellowing laughter.

“And speaking of memory…” Tony asked, “… jeez, how long HAS it been since I took you gals there?”

Winter and Weiss mirth quickly faded away, the joyful mood gone.

“Oh. Oooh… way to go, Tony…” Tony said, his face looking remorseful and a little angry at himself. “So much for the 'most highly advanced and adaptive artificial intelligences in the market today'… look, gals, I'm sorry--”

“It's fine, Tony,” Winter said, “it's been a really, really long time—I'm not surprised even a supercomputer like you would forget.”

“I don't ever forget, especially somethin' as important as that!” Tony snapped. “Just that some geniuses in Programming decided that I need to be a little slower at pulling up some kinds of info from the ol' database than others...” he grumbled.

“We'll put in another formal complaint for you, Tony” Weiss muttered.

Tony smiled. “Thanks, gals, the two of you are little angels. Well, maybe not so little no more, but still angels.”

They drove around for a little while longer until distinct sight of the Plushie Palace came into view—a giant, thirty-story shopping complex that was specifically designed after and the stone and mortal palaces of yore, a giant teddy bear with a modest crown sitting in its highest tower.

“Sure you want to take the front gates to this place?” Tony asked as the cab began to slow down. “They still got those secret entrances and showrooms for doing deals all discrete like, and I know two of 'em, at least.”

“No thank you, Tony,” Winter said she looked out the window, pressed her right up to the glass. “This is my first time back here in a long while—I want to make it special.”

“Then I'll call 'em and make 'em roll out the red carpet like the first time I took you here!” Tony said, chuckling.

Winter teared up. “That'd be great, Tony, thank you.”

#rwby #fanfic #white rose #the keeper of the grove

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terraisnotonfire-blog · 5 years

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Erin, Chapter 2

A warm breeze lifted Erin's cloak as the leaves of the nearby copse of tress rustled, the dapples of sunlight intermittently dancing across the pair of lone figures laying prone on the knoll. The dark green cloaks combined with the visual cover provided from the shade made them hard to spot from a distance, only the occasional glint from a crossbow gave them away. But none of the guards atop the wooden ramparts were looking in their direction. Both of the crossbows were trained on the door of a cabin in the middle of the makeshift fort, and they had been for quite some time. Long enough for the smaller figure to become restless.

"So, you uh, you ever handled one of these before." Jess motioned his head towards the crossbow in his hand before looking at the one in her hand.

"Shh, we're supposed to be quiet." Erin hissed at her mousey companion.

"Oh come on, we've been sitting her quietly all morning, I'm bored. If we were gonna be spotted, it would have happened by now. A little bit of whispering isn't going to hurt anyone. And who the fuck knows how much longer those two will be. They probably got lost."

"Yeah, you're probably right. . . No, I haven't. Only ever had what I could make with my own hands. Well, a friend forged the steel for the daggers, but I made the hilts and sheathes. Same friend forged all my arrowheads too. But everything else I made myself." "What about that armor, its awfully fancy, where'd you get it?"

"Made it myself too. Parents were tanners and leatherworkers, they taught me everything I know. I make little things here and then, coin purses, wine skins, caps, simple stuff I can manage on the road and use the proceeds to purchase supplies."

"Your work is truly incredible, if you're so skilled, why become an adventurer?"

"What is this, an inquisition? Your turn, you first, why did you become an adventurer?"

"Well, I came from a small town. Parents were simple woodworkers. They taught me the family trade, same as yours. But it never fulfilled me. I never really latched on to making furniture. I could make a chair and it would hold you up like a chair, but I had no passion for it. Not the way that you do with that armor. Truly exquisite, I could never pull of something so inspired."

"If you think my lust for leather always runs this deep, you are mistaken. This armor and these daggers only look as good as they do because they are things I care about. The bags and hats I churn out are bland as can be. I make them because I gotta eat."

"Fair enough. Then you understand why I turned to adventure. Making furniture would have allowed me to survive, albeit simply due to the basic designs of my work. But it certainly wouldn't allow me to live. I need something more. I want to make a name for myself. Especially one as bland as mine. There is a Jess in every city I go. Jess the baker, Jess the butcher, Jess the barrel maker. Its time to give average old Jess's like me someone to aspire to."

"You know its not all bad having an average name. If there a million Jess's in the world, you can be any Jess you want to be and no one will know the difference."

"Interesting idea. But personally I prefer to stand out, rather than blend in. So one day shortly after turning 18, I left my parents shop one day, bought a crossbow with the money I saved up, and set out on the road to adventure, in hopes that one day the name of Jess the Mighty will be known across the land. So what about you?"

"Well you know most of it by now. Even from a very young age, looking to my future and seeing the life of a leatherworker filled me with nothing but dread. So when I was a kid I would sneak out in to the woods to practice archery with this crude bow I'd constructed. My mom found out and rather than get mad she helped me. She started teaching me how to make armor instead of saddles. She brought me to the town bowyer to teach me how to make a better bow. She bandaged every cut and scrape I got. But as supportive as she was, I could tell it worried her. So I stayed with them for a while. On her deathbed she urged me to follow my dreams. And since I didn't have any one left to worry, I set out for Innastorm, and well, here I am."

"Oh I'm so sorry for your loss." Jess's brow sunk as he placed a small furry hand on her shoulder

"Its okay, it wasn't sudden or anything, I had already made my peace. I've more or less moved on already. But sometimes I still miss her. And so I write in this journal as a way of telling her what's going on. She said it had some sort of enchantment on it that would let those important to you hear your words. I don't really know what that means but I know shes important to me so I hope my words ring out to her wherever she might be."

"Wow, sounds like you had a really great relationship with your family. Can't say the same. All they ever wanted was me to take over the family business. Never cared about my future or ambitions. Just wanted me to make beds and cabinets and shit. Ugh. If I never see another gouge, it'll be too soon."

"That's unfortunate that whatever skill you accrued would just go to waste. You shouldn't let your contempt for your parents affect other aspects of your life like that. Maybe your problem with woodworking isn't the work, but what you were making with it. The times I'm happiest while leatherworking is when I'm making something thats gonna help me in a fight, like this armor or my quiver. Maybe you could take a crack at something more you? Your hands are quite deft, I'm sure you could make something beautiful if you set your mind to it."

"An interesting thought. I suppose it would give me something to do around the campfire at night. Imagine the irony of becoming a great adventurer while also surpassing my father as a woodcarver. The look on his face. . . . You have given me much to think about."

"Well don't think too hard, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"Wow, Erin, I think you should leave the witty retorts to me. What are you gonna start mocking me in a silly voice next?"

"what are you gonna start mocking me in a silly voice next?" she replied in a horribly nasal voice.

Jess chuckled slightly. "I don't know why but that made me laugh. Good job. Now about your wolf, how did her eye--" Jess's query was interrupted by the sound of splintering lumber. They both turned their attention to the southside of the bandit camp. The gate had been broken down and a large man stood where it once resided, a couple of bodies at his feet. Atop the wall lay two dead guards and the garishly decorated figure of Loramir. The other guards on the north end, as well as those stationed around the camp immediately began to descend on the pair.

"Show time." Jess raised his crossbow and began firing at the guards on top of the wall, a moment later Erin had her's up and was doing the same. They fired one after another, knocking bandits off the wall like milk bottles in a shooting gallery. Before long, they were gone, leaving only the swarm of bandits on the ground storming towards Volfram. Loramir vaulted off the wall and landed with a graceful tumble next to his comrade. They squared up back to back as Erin turned her crossbow towards the men. Jess nudged her with an elbow. "Remember the plan. I'll focus on the front door, you focus on the back."

"Shouldn't we help them though."

"I don't know, looks like they can handle themselves. I get the distinct impression that they've done this kind of thing before."

Erin watched with equal parts horror and fascination as the pair set to laying waste to the mob surrounding them.. Volfram swung wide with huge cleaving blows, his greataxe rending men asunder with a single swipe. Loramir, while ducking and weaving out of the way of Volfram's brutal strikes, delivered precision strikes to those nimble enough to avoid the more overhanded tactics of his partner. It was a symphony. A bloody gory symphony of violence and symbiosis. They had already put a sizable chunk in the horde and showed no signs of slowing down. "Yeah I guess you're right."

"Come on out you coward. Show us your fucking face. I hope you make that same stupid expression you have on your wanted poster." Jess anxiously tapped his fingers on the trigger guard as his gaze kept alternating between the door, and the leaves of the nearby tree, watching the wind, measuring it. This was nothing new to him, he'd done it a million times before. He'd made a hundred trickier shots. This bandit had made his escape for the last time. Because now he was dealing with Jess the Mighty, sharpest eye in the land.

Suddenly, the door flew open and a man came rushing out. Same crazed eyes, same wild hair, same slack jaw, same incredulous expression. Yep, this was him. This was Gerald the Yellow. He frantically looked back over his shoulder as he ran, to make sure the two attackers were unaware of his escape attempt before, asured of his success, he grinned a cocksure smile, and began to sprint towards the woods.

"There he is, what are you doing, shoot him." Erin frantically turned her attention away from the door and began to point her crossbow torwards Gerald.

"It's okay, it's okay, I've got this. Believe it or not you're not the only marksman around here." Jess took one last glance at the trees to judge for any last minute wind adjustments, narrowed his focus and steeled his resolve One shot. . . he exhaled as he pulled the trigger. One-- The slam of wood on wood interrupted his mental one liner as the bolt he fired narrowly missed the target and hit the wall of the fort instead.

"Ugh fine I'll do it." Erin began to focus on the target

"It's not my fault I missed, you nudged me at the last moment. Give me some space, I got this." He threw out his arms in an exasperated manner, a motion to empty his personal bubble. Erin took the message and scooted over. The target was farther now. About 150 yards. He was free of the fort and beginning to get in to the trees. It was now or never, he'd be in too much cover by the time he loaded another bolt. This was a tricky shot. One that only a true master could pull off. The kind of shot he lived for. He smiled. Once again Jess measured the wind, adjusted his aim, and steadied himself. One shot, one kill. He exhaled as he pulled the trigger. This time the bolt soared through the air with grim determination. Jess watched on with increasing satisfaction, his smile growing wider as mere moments before its impact, Gerald turned his head to see the object soaring directly towards his head, but only quick enough to watch it embed itself several inches deep into his forehead.

With the target dealt with, both Jess and Erin turned their attention back to their party members to see a literal piles of dead bodies at their feet, the pair of warriors seemingly unscathed. Erin climbed down from the cliff and made her way over to the pair, as Jess headed in the opposite direction to collect the body of their bounty. Erin arrived to find the duo recapping their fight

Loramir wiped down a dagger as he chuckled to himself. "Oh man do you see that one dudes face when I stabbed my dagger through his chin and it came out of his mouth. He was all like 'What's this thing, that's not my tongue, its supposed to be red and soft, not silver and metal. I'm a dumb bandit who doesn't know how getting stabbed works.' Ha, what a fucking moron."

"Most of the guys I kill just look sad. Like they see me and they know that they're going to be one of the countless dead bodies that lies between me and whoever I'm here to fight. Its like this horrible dread of knowing your fate and not being able to do anything about it. At least thats what I reckon. Don't really get to ask em many questions. I just know if I looked like them, and saw someone like me chop five of my friends in half with a single swing, those are the kinds of thoughts I would have, and thats exactly the face I would make while I was having them."

"Ah maybe, but the tricky ones, the ones that avoid that initial swing, they think they're gonna be the one to get through. They're so goddamned sure of themselves, they think they can do anything because they dodged one attack. And then I show up to wipe that smug look off their face when they find themselves with plus two daggers to the hearts, and minus a lot of blood."

"Hey so what took you two so long, you were supposed to be here hours ago, at dawn before the guard change." Volfram and Loramir broke from their conversation to address Erin, who had now arrived at their scene of unspeakable carnage.

"VOLFRAM RIPPED HIS PANTS!" Loramir barely managed to contain his amusement long enough to get the sentence out before being overcome with racous laughter.

"No I didn't!" Volfram's voiced boomed over Loramir's

"Yes he did! He farted so hard he ripped his pants." Loramir barely managed to get the story out between fits of giggles.

"I didn't fart, it was the chair."

"Big boy here was getting up from breakfast, and as he does he lets out this massive blast that knocks over his chair and rips his pants."

"No the sound was coming from the creaking of the wood. When my pants ripped it startled me and I bumped the chair which is why it fell over.

"Then why did your pants rip, oh great Lord of Thunder?"

". . . because I'm big."

Loramir had finally regained his compusure, his cheeks and stomach aching from laughing to hard. "So long story short, we spent all morning trying to track down pants his size because most stores don't carry Extra Gargantuan." She was not an empath, she had no mental ability to understand another's mind, and yet somehow Erin could actually feel Volfram's embarrasment. "So how are things on your end, how did the stakeout go?"

"Everything went well. We were never spotted. When you came in, they were so focused on you that we were able to handle the lookouts without drawing any attention to ourselves."

Loramir grunted as he planted a foot on the chest of one of the bandits and pulled one of his throwing daggers out of his ribcage. "And what about the target."

"And what about Jess, is the little guy alright." A look of worry came over Volfram's face as his eyes darted around for any sign of the Muridian.

"Oh yeah he's fine. And target is down. Jess is going to get the body. But I wanted to talk to you about him. I think he missed on purpose."

"I thought you said he got him." Loramir looked puzzled.

"Well he did. But on the second shot. The first one he fired before Gerald even got outside of the hideout. It was an easy shot and he missed. I think he did it on purpose. I think he wanted to show off. He claimed I nudged him and he wouldn't let me take the shot. That's some pretty risky behavior right there."

"What so I'm confused. Did he shoot the target or didn't he?"

"Well yeah he did, but--"

"Well then who cares. He got the job down, that's all that matters. If he wants to have a little fun and challenge himself, more power to him. He's the batshit one. That's his job. Keep things interesting."

"I don't know, you elected me the brains of this group, I think that maybe—" Her concerns were interrupted by Jess's surprisingly deep and booming voice.

"Hey guys, I could use a little help." The trio looked over to the north end of camp to see an exhausted Jess dragging the body by a foot, its head face down, a narrow rut carved in the dirt where the bolt in his face had scraped along the ground."

"Okay but look, he's also really cute. He's so tiny and little but he tries so so hard, I just want to pick him up and squeeze him."

"I get the feeling you'd wind up with a crossbow bolt in the face if you tried." Erin scoffed as she put her reservations aside. Its clear her worries were falling on deaf ears. And she did have to admit he was cute. Maybe cute wasn't the right word. But looking at him, something about him just made her smile.

"98, 99, 100." Jess finished counting out his gold before placing it back on to the table in front of him and glaring at it dissatisfactorily. "Ya know, when I joined up with a group called the 'Magnificent Monarchs" I was expecting bigger jobs than this. This probably won't even cover a week's bar tab."

"Relax Jess, there will be bigger jobs." Loramir paused from cleaning his fingernails with a dagger just long enough to give his friend a reassuring nod, before returning to his work. "This was sort of a . . . trial run. Had to see how the two of you would preform in an actual mission. Figured a simple thug like that was as good a place as any to see how you two measure up. Great work out there by the way."

"Yeah there better be. One with a bit more action, too. You and Volfram got to have all the fun."

"Not ALL the fun, I heard you made quite the shot. Real marksman stuff out there."

Jess cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "Yeah, I reckon I did. But look, no more of this little baby "My First Quest" bullshit. Look at my fucking scars. Look at my aim. I need something bigger."

Volfram interrupted the long quiet love affair he'd been having with his fourth ale. "Yeah well we 'ad to try out the new girl, and well, as boring as it mighta been for ya, Erin's plan worked wonderful. Gerald the Yellow has fled the last twenty times some one 'as tried to apprehend 'im. So I reckon that’s a job well done. To the Magnificent Monarchs!"

Erin raised her glass of cider and clinked it. Before taking a swig. "Oh you're too kind Volfram."

"Oh its nuffin. Ya did real good today. Loramir won't admit it but even 'e wuz impressed.

"Do you mind if I ask a question?"

"Go fer it."

"What's with the team name?"

Volfram turned to face Loramir who had done the same. They shared a look and a single bemused snort of laughter. Loramir then turned back to Erin, as Volfram returned to his drink. "Oh, just an old inside joke between the two of us."

"Well, let's hear it."

"Honestly, its so old, I don't even remember the story that well anymore. And to be honest, its not really that funny in the first place. We were just stumped for a name and alliterative names were in at the time."

"why not change it then? Seems like keeping a fad team name that references a joke that only two members understand and barely laugh at is just weird.

"Yeah, but that's what its always been. And what would you call us? Something inspiring and serious I imagine. Like the Ironheart Brigade or something."

"Nah, I got something better. And I think you'll like it."

"Okay, prove me wrong."

"The B Team."

"Really?"

"Hear me out. Okay well, last night after coming back from the tryouts, I spent a lot of time asking around about the different adventurers that come through her, the different plaques on the well, all that kind of stuff. And I realized something. The teams most likely to die are the ones usually considered the strongest at the time. Usually at some point along the way, someone will come along with a quest too dangerous. That strongest will come forward believing themselves capable, and then die in the pursuit. Then a militia gets involved and the problem is solved. Then before long, some other team starts to get seen as the strongest, the recognition goes to their head, and then the next time someone comes along with a dragon, they've got it in their head that "no actually, we can do this." and they take it on and they die. And it just keeps happening over and over. On top of that, I was kind of amused about your philosophy on the 4 B's--"

Loramir's face immediately lit up as the cogs began to turn. "Ah, so The B Team is a reference to my amazing wisdom, while also planting in everyone's mind that we are second best and freeing us from the pressure of ever taking on a job too big." He grinned, not because of his own words, but someone else's. Unusual. He turned to Volfram "Whattaya think? The B Team?"

"Works for me."

"I dunno, it really belies my greatness." Jess mulled it over for a moment as he took a sip.

"Oh hush, there is plenty of glory to be found in second place. And you can't have glory when you're dead. Plus, you're outnumbered three to one."

"Fine, The B Team it is."

"TO THE B TEAM" Loramir raised his glass once more and the other joined suit. But instead of the gentle sound of four glasses clinking, the room was instead filled with the sound of a door being kicked wide open. The four turned to see a large imposing figure standing in the doorway. The first thing that was noticeable was her muscly red-skinned body. This was probably because so much of it was showing. She was dressed more or less in the traditional garb of a paladin of Nerva, Goddess of War. Sandals with knee high leather straps, armored skirt, intimidating plumed helmet, and her spear and giant shield were no doubt being held at the door. The only differences were the fact that on her helm were three holes, two to allow her horns to poke and a third farther back that allowed here to replace the traditional red plume with her own hair, a ponytail of the purest white. The other odd thing was that her chest was tightly bound in white linen. Even as undressed as she was, Nerva's follower's weren't known for even this level of modesty.

"Hello, are you the Magnificent Monarchs?"

"We were up until about five seconds ago, how can we be of assistance?" Loramir took a drink from his glass before finally lowering it, as Jess and Erin followed suit.

"I am a paladin of Nerva, as you can no doubt tell. I have been tasked on a great mission from my lady. All I know is that I am supposed to follow a wolf to victory." With that, Princess, who had been occupied with a bowl of various meat chunks all night, perked her head up at the sudden attention she seemed to be receiving. Erin, taking notice of this scratched her between the ears

"Oh I don't know how liable ol Princess here is to lead you to any sort of victory. You're more likely to wind up in the trash if you follow her." Princess whimpered, as if she recognized the insult. Erin smiled apologetically and began to double down on the head scratches.

Volfram, who had sat stunned the entire time, eyes locked on the new arrival, finally lowered his drink. "Well, I fink its a great idea. The merrier the more I always say. I mean the more the merrier." He went to take a sip and missed his mouth overcome once again by overwhelming clumsiness. Women like her always made him feel more self conscious. He kept trying to look away but there was something about their perfect elegant powerful bodies that he couldn't turn away from. And the longer he looked, the smaller he felt.

Jess, poured the last of his drink into his mouth before overturning his cup on the table. "Two things, One, I need a new drink, and two, how does she fit in to the B Team?'

Loramir sat for a moment, as if flipping through pages of a book in his mind, before his eyes lit up once again. "Easy, she's our bonus."

Journal Entry 2

I did it! I completed my first quest! Well, by I, I mean we. The B Team, that's what we're calling ourselves now. Loramir really seemed to like my name suggestion. He's kinda cute when he realizes I'm right. So anyway, we took out this thug who's been robbing people. They said he would camp out in an area and demand the people nearby give him money, lest they be met with violence. Real basic stuff, we got the fucker no problem. So anyway, this other woman ended up joining the party today. Really badass, break you in half type. Seems to be Volfram's type too. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. I thought that maybe he might have a thing for me with the way he came to my defense during tryouts, but maybe he's just a nice person. Oh well, not that big of a deal. I didn't become an adventurer to find love, I became an adventurer to become the greatest hero this land has ever known. Well, I guess I'll have to compete with Jess for that title. He spent all night telling the story of how he singlehandedly eliminated every bandit in the fortress with a single well placed shot each to any bar patron drunk enough to stay and listen. If he keeps it up, it will be impossible for anyone to not hear about him.

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