[PP-F05] <<The Traveller>> Surviving more than the Weather.

[Alinta 0]

The woman wasn't fond of this floor. She wore a loose fitted white shirt, and tight denim short-shorts. Rarely ever dressed quite appropriately for the occasion. Alinta preferred to look a certain way. That way was not like some cliche' game character. The woman may love to write about fantasy... but she did not enjoy living it. The woman sat cross legged beneath a large cloth canopy in the city of Fortaleza - the main settlement of the fifth floor. Every so often she'd shoot a glare at a passerby.

She had been trying to slowly...slowly explore the other cities, the least she could do. But Alinta hit a bit of a road bump. She was told by a passerby in Taft that she'd need the Survival Skill if she wanted to be safe against the elements. It didn't take long for her to find the details of the quest. It didn't seem too hard. She had to find some old man, who lingered by the gate to the desert, and take him to his hiding spot...wherever that was. She had played these sort of games before. Escort quests. The hardest part about them was having to slow yourself down for the terribly slow NPCs. 

Alinta --> Scar: Hey...I found this quest and I was wondering if you could help me with it? It's called <<The Traveller>> and it gives you a Survival Skill that helps you deal with a bunch of weather and terrain debuffs. I looked into it and it's just an escort quest so it should be pretty easy but those are kind of boring to do alone. So if you want to come you can.
Alinta --> Scar: You don't have to though.

A pause before she sent another.

Alinta --> Scar: If you do. I am waiting at a small cafe by the teleport gate in Fortaleza, I bought you a drink.
Alinta --> Scar: Not that I assumed you'd come, its hot so. I'll just drink it myself.

The woman had to close her messaging system, lest she became too overbearing...perhaps there was a reason she didn't really hear back from Oscar. He was a busy man, and her catching sight of him at the Blackbook event - lead the woman to believe that he had started to see another woman. That was fine. It wasn't like they had even dated or anything of the sort. He simply showed an interest in her.

 

Alinta instead; put her attention to the table in front of her, made of smooth sandstone, two drinks sitting on it. Each with a festive paper umbrella. Both bright blue in colour. Alinta picked up her own and took a long sip from it, tasting the sweet lemonade before pressing the glass to her forehead, enjoying the cool touch of the condensation upon the glasss.  "He probably won't come...." She muttered to herself. The woman was fully prepared to do this alone. She just...didn't want to.

After all, she had only met Scar once, and they...well. 

At the very least she had enjoyed his company during the event.

ALINTA OMBRE | HP: 560/560 | EN: 74/74 | DMG: 1 | LD:2 | True Tier 3

WC:511

Spoiler

 

"Name: ALINTA OMBRE
True Tier: 3
Level: 28
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 560/560
EN: 74/74

Stats:
Damage: 1
Loot Die: 2

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - BLACK CROSS EARRING +2 LD

Combat Mastery:
  - 

Combat Shift:
  - 

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:

Extra Skills:

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:

Mods:

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:
  - HEALTH POTION +5HP x3

Housing Buffs:

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:
"           

 

                                                                                                                

@Scar

Edited 13 hours ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

The message blinked onto Jack's interface while he was half-distracted, cycling through his quest log with idle disinterest.

Alinta -> Scar: Hey.. I foudn this quest and I was wondering if you could help me with it?

He read through the series of messages, escort quest, «The Traveller», survival skill reward. Straightforward. A bit dull. Escort missions were the MMO equivalent of watching paint dry, but when he reached the last message, he caught himself smirking.

Alinta -> Scar: I bought you a drink. Not that I assumed you'd come.

He could almost hear her voice in that. That mix of stubborn detachment and uncertain invitation made something in him stir. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, he was already on his way to the teleport gate before he could talk himself out of it.

Not long after, the shimmer of light faded, and he was standing on the fifth floor. The sun felt like a real solid block of heat against his body.

"Holy hell," he murmured, shielding his eyes.

The head of the midday sun showed off the whole of Fortaleza, street of sandstone, tents made of decorated cloth, and a crowd that went about their business with a leisurely kind of will under the blazing sun of the desert. It was beautiful in its own way, but Jack was thinking right off the bat that his clothes were all wrong. Black t-shirt, black shorts, and black shoes. Without a shadow of a doubt, it had appeared alright when he was leaving, but under this sun, the color might as well have been his doom. He was almost able to see the material soaking up the heat like a sponge.

"Perfect," he said sarcastically to himself. "Dress like a shadow, burn like one."

Still, he pressed on through the plaza, scanning for the café she mentioned. It wasn't long before he could see the wide canopy close to the teleport gate, shady place, sandstone table, and a delicate aroma of citrus carried by the wind. And there she was, with nobody but herself, sitting.

Even from a distance, he recognized her immediately. Alinta had that same calm, self-contained posture he remembered from the Blackbook event, though here it looked.. different. Less guarded. A little more human, maybe. She was focused on something in front of her, two drinks, both topped with small blue umbrellas that looked comically festive in the desert heat.

He stopped for a second, a smile coming to his lips. She hadn't seen him yet.

That made things more interesting.

Quietly he moved from one table to another until he was just behind her. Without a word, he reached out and tapped her shoulder once, light, casual, and stepped to the opposite side before she could look back. As her head turned in the wrong direction, he leaned in close enough to poke her cheek with one finger.

"Guess you didn't think I'd actually show up, huh?" he said, voice laced with amusement.

He straightened up, took the vacant chair next to her, and smiled. "Yeah, you weren't joking about the heat." He was pulling the collar of his black shirt with his land a little. "Wearing this was a terrible life choice."

The two drinks caught his eye, and he looked at her with a little bit of a surprise saying, "You really did get me one." Playfully he says, "Watch out, Alinta, if you keep doing considerate things like this, and I might start expecting them."

He dropped back in his seat, one arm draped over the chair. "So," he said after a moment, his eyes bright with interest, "Where's this old man we're supposed to escort? Please tell me he's not halfway across the desert."

* * *

Spoiler

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4

[equipments.]
scimitar. | [#000000] | TIER 1 RARE CURVED SWORD | ACC, BLEED (12)
[desc.]: A sleek, crescent-shaped weapon designed for precision and speed. Its sharp curve biting deep to draw swift, bleeding wounds from every strike.

[battle-ready inventory.]
starter healing potion. | [#000000] | TIERLESS POTION | HP RECOVERY
[desc.]: A small glass vial. When consumed, it restores 50 health points.

WC: 629

@Alinta

[Alinta 0]

"Huh?" She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned her head - seeing nothing the woman grumbled in frustration. As Alinta turned her facea again she felt a calloused finger press into the soft skin of her cheek. Alinta jumped in surprise, almost spilling her blue drink all over her white top. She would have, if she hadn't already drank half its contents. "Scar..." His name spoken with an Exasperated sigh as she watched the man shift to sit down.

"Guess you didn't think I'd actually show up, huh?" 

Alinta crossed her arms, lightly glossed lips pressing into a pout as she gave a visible and audible huff. "Who cares if you did?" she asked. "It's not like this is my first rodeo. I've spent thousands of hours playing these sort of games before." And she had, it was all she really did aside from her modelling gig. "I just..." A shift of her eyes to the teleport gate, and away from him. "Didn't expect to be able to actually die in one." Something she was reminded of daily back in the Town of Beginnings. Her voice filled with a sort of hesitation. Suddenly unsure if she wanted to do this quest. Alinta had to remind herself she had someone with her, that there wasn't anything unusual about the quest. Alinta would loosen her arms and allow herself to lean forward on the table, shifting her drink to the side so she could address her companion properly, and with a smile.

"You good there?" She'd ask with a tilt of her head. "I should have warned you to bring something..." Her eyes would dance up and down his body. "A little more airy." Alinta placed her chin in the palm of one hand and picked up her drink with the other, taking an idle sip as she watched him. He was easy on the eyes, and despite how he dressed - he always managed to smell like fresh linen. "Of course...I don't mind watching your sweat." She'd add. She'd continue their tit for tat that they had the night of the ball - granted there was less fire behind her words. This time, it was more of a playful banter. Alinta didn't want to get him too riled up, nor her too flustered. She now knew he'd match her, then take it several steps further. 

And...she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep up, and keep a level head.

"Ah...T-The drink." She stammered as she gestured toward it, catching her thoughts before they had time to seed themselves into her psyche. "Yes!" She'd pick up his glass and place it against his head, letting the droplets of condensation drop down his head. "See. It's good for two things." 

"Watch out, Alinta, if you keep doing considerate things like this, and I might start expecting them."

"O-oh?!" Alinta felt embarrassed at that, she'd set the glass back down in front of him and lower herself back to her own seat, shifting her gaze away as she picked up her own, playing around with the little umbrella. "So...right. Right the quest...we gotta... find and escort an old man named Z-Zamek to some hidden location. He's usually wandering around the front gate to the city. North side...but...before that..." She'd play around with the umbrella a little more. "I....I don't - I mean....I haven't invested my skills in anything yet." She felt a little embarrassed to admit it.

"So...do ya think I should do that first?" She turned to him. "What build are you going for?"

This....This was safe talk, nerd talk. Her talk. She could handle this. Far, far more than sultry whispers and the scent of sweat and lavender.

 

WC: 614

[Scar 0]

His head was actually cooled down by the glass and he could not help but pull a short laugh through his throat. The droplets which were flowing down his neck trailed through the desert heat for just a second before they disappeared into the dark fabric of his shirt. "Guess I had that coming." he said, still chuckling as she set the glass down. He took the glass and took a sip, letting the sweetness wash away the dryness from his mouth since the time of their arrival, to spread in his mouth.

The flavor was even lighter than he had expected, fresh, citrusy, and very slightly sour. He looked at the blue liquid, swirling it once and an intonation of satisfaction escaped from his lips. "You know," he said, tapping the rim with a finger, "I didn't even know blue lemonade was a thing. You've officially expanded my world, Alinta."

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling through a grin. The sun pressed down through the edges of the canopy, and the heat seemed to soak straight through his clothes. Black shirt, black shorts, black shoes, he really hadn't thought this through. The outfit had seemed practical this morning: neutral, clean, simple. But out here, under Aincrad's desert sun, it just felt like he'd wrapped himself in a portable oven. The sweat that formed at his neck and along his forearms wasn't subtle either. Still, pride was a stubborn thing. He wasn't about to complain, especially not when Alinta already seemed amused by his suffering.

Her voice pulled his attention back. While talking about builds, she hesitated a little in choosing her words and not very sure, which is a very different behavior for a person who normally is very confident. Jack just watched for a moment, chin propped on his knuckles, eye flicking between her face and the drink she was nervously toying with. It was strange. After the sharp, playful tension between them at the ball, he hadn't expected to see this side of her, hesitant, almost shy. And for a reason he couldn't quite place, he found it.. grounding.

"Most players here go straight for combat," he said, his tone even. "You know the type, big swords, big egos. I know that there are some who think damage is all that matters." He took another sip, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "But this game.. this reality doesn't work like other MMOs. No classes, no skill trees. It feels like the more you do something, the better you become. Every hit, every step, every craft."

He moved a little closer, his elbows on the table. "So, if fighting's not really your thing, there's plenty of other routes. Gatheringm crafting, cooking. Hell, even fishing. They all matter. The people who focus on that stuff? They're the ones who actually keep everyone else alive longer."

He looked at her more deeply and spoke gently, "You said you've played games like this before. What kind of role did you usually take? Tanking? DPS? Support?" He paused, smirking faintly. "Let me guess, something balanced, but flashy. You look like the type who'd want to handle everything yourself."

He moved backward, the smile changing to a softer one. "Me? I like being up close. Fast. Clean hits, no wasted motion. Once I get the quest for it, I'm picking up the Katana skill. Timing's everything with it, you mess up once, you pay for it. But when you nail it, it feels like control. Like all the chaos finally makes sense."

He rubbed at the back of his neck, the sunlight catching the faint sheen of sweat along his arm. "Don't rush figuring out your set up. You'll get the feel for what you want."

Jack's voice was a little softer, the corners of his mouth lifting. "If I were you, I'd mix something practical with something that lets you hit back when things go bad. It would give you power. Otherwise, you'll end up waiting for someone else to save you, but I wouldn't mind saving you."

He took one last sip, watching the shimmer of heat outside the canopy, then looked back to her with a quiet grin. "Besides," he added, playful again, "Someone's gotta keep up with me out there."

The teasing glint lingered for a moment before he glanced toward the street again. A streetlight gust lifted the edge of his shirt and with is, came a faint scent of dust and citrus. "Next time," he said dryly, "I'm bringing something lighter. Black and desert don't mix."

* * *

WC: 762

OOC: did you mean "Surviving" and not "Survivng"

[Alinta 0]

Scar wasn't like her. He was consistent. Stable. Secure. Far more grounded than her constant flittering between confidence and apprehension. 

"If you're that uncomfortable, I don't mind you changing." A pause. "I mean waiting for you to change, into something more appropriate. But - after this quest...apparently we won't feel the heat as much." She glanced down at her own attire, far more suited for a stroll down the boardwalk by the beach, not a trip to the desert. Still. Far cry better than what he was wearing. "Respectfully Scar..." She'd say picking up her glass and finishing it off, gulping down the bubbles and pressing the now empty glass against her forehead. "You look like you might struggle." Hell, she was struggling and Alinta was far more appropriately dressed.

Switching topics had been a good idea. It gave the flippant woman enough time to calm down. Remove herself away from that...tension that kept building up between the two. Something about two adults who clearly craved some sort of attention...may not be a good mix. The woman smiled at his compliment, how she had expanded his world. "You trying to flatter me? You know I am a model. You'll have to do better than that." Although, she secretly hoped he wouldn't. It was easy to read compliments online, turns out - its much harder to receive them in person.

Alinta fished one of the ice cubes out of her drink with her straw and pushed herself out of her chair. Listening to him talk about other various games. "Hmm...depends on the game. I used to like the brawler class- something very cathartic about whaling on your enemies...before that I'd adore magic classes, but that got complicated. And..." A tilt of her head as she shifted behind Scar. "There is no magic here."

His discomfort did not go unnoticed by the woman, so Alinta carefully placed the ice cube at the nape of his neck. Letting it melt down and trickle beneath his shirt. She didn't think much of the action, beyond that it must be nice, a small reprieve from the sweltering heat. Moving it up and down watching the trail of moisture. "You're right...I liked doing things on my own. I'm used to it. Even now I'm used to -" A pause. Realization, that she didn't really have any connections here. She could attempt to say Oscar was one, but he was more akin to a passing thought. Despite her efforts.

What would make Scar any different?

"I'm used to being alone."

And with that she'd drop whatever was left of the cube straight down the back of his shirt. Alinta shifted back in front of him, hefting herself up to sit on the table, facing him. She winced as the hot sandstone hit her bare thighs. Little too warm. "Here...I had planned to do the same." Alinta caught his gaze with a smile. "The Katana skill...what can I say? I am enamored with the thought of a lone ronin whisking me away- but with things being so....deadly...I don't know." She gave a heavy sigh.  "Maybe something I can do from a distance...whip? Light armour? Something that allows me to just slip away....I haven't looked too closely at some of the skill combinations but I think that'd work. If I ever get my ass into gear."

-but I wouldn't mind saving you."

 

There was something about how he had said that, and how he made the lighthearted joke of wanting someone to keep up with him. "Careful." Alinta chided. "You'll make me think you want to hang out with me."

WC: 598

[Scar 0]

The chill that went down his spine, was too quick to count. Jack was unsure for a moment, tightening his muscles, while directly after, a quick hiss comes out of his breath as the melting ice quietly moves down his chest. "You-" He bit back a laugh, as his shoulders trembling he bends his head lower, trying to intercept the dripping which he thought by the look of it would descend further. "You're evil, you know that?"

Still sitting in his armchair, he brought his hand over the back of his neck, as if the cold which had caught him there, could be drive away with a touch. The desert heat rushed back just as quickly, but somehow it didn't feel quite as heavy anymore. Maybe because she was laughing. Maybe it was the fact of the moment, when the tension between them seemed to break, not disappear, just soften to a level from which it was still possible to breathe.

Her commend about him struggling earned a quiet snort. "I'll be fine," he said, leaning back with mock confidence. "The heat back home was worse than this. Or at least felt worse.. You don't earn the Survival Skill by sitting in the shade, right?" With a slight smile he looked at her, which at least partially hid the perspiration that was shining on his jaw. "Besides, if I pass out, you can drag me to the quest NPC. Builds character."

Upon the model comment, Jack tilted his head a little, acting as if he was examining her and deciding the quality of a photo shoot. "A model, huh? Yeah.. that tracks." His voice was full of humor but behind the smile he was sincere. "You'd probably take Miss Universe if you applied. Now if I want to be seen with you in public, I definitely have to step up my game."

The phrases were airy, but still, they lingered longer than he expected.

The empty glass was put down by him and his arms were loosely folded on the table as he listened to her talking about her previous play-styles, the brawler classes, the catharsis of beating down enemies. He found himself picturing it, somehow fitting with the spark she carried in every word. Then she mentioned the absence of magic, and her tone shifted, her confidence dipping into something quieter.

"I get that," he said softly. "Used to doing things on your own. It's.. easy to stay in that space once you've been there long enough." His gaze met hers, steady but warm. "But you're not alone anymore. Not unless you choose to be."

He let the words hang there, not pushing, just letting them exist between them like the shade they sat under. Then, wait a faint grin that tugged one corner of his mouth higher, he added, "After that night at the Blackbook event? I am quite certain that I wouldn't want to leave you again." The teasing tone was there, very obvious, however, something in his eyes was letting the fact that it wasn't only a joke be known to her.

When she ordered him to be careful and said that he would make her think that he wanted to hang out with her, Jack was not able to hold back a laugh. "Think?" he echoed. "Alinta, if you ever want to hang out, I'll drop whatever I'm doing and be there before you finish typing the message."

His softening of his expression was marked by a pause. "I suppose it's just that I like your company."

The wind shifted, carrying a brief gust of warmth that fluttered the edges of her hair. Jack looked past her for a moment, toward the streets of Fortaleza, the sandstone glowing gold under the light, the chatter of players drifting through the plaza. For all the dangers this world carried, it still had moments like this. Still felt alive.

He looked back to her, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hands. "So, Miss Universe," he said, grin returning, "You decide what kind of fighter you want to be yet? Because if you're going with that whip idea, I might have to start watching here I stand."

He leaned forward just a touch, voice lowering into that familiar teasing drawl. "Can't have you aiming too close, or I might start thinking you're flirting."

He let the moment linger just long enough before the smirk eased into something more genuine, quiet, but real. "Whatever you pick, though," he said, "I'll back you up. That's what partners do."

He wasn't sure when the word partner had slipped out, but he didn't take it back.

* * *

WC: 778

[Alinta 0]

Post Action: Roleplay speaking to <<Zamek>>.

"Evil?" Alinta would say innocently, and it was genuine. She had thought the ice would help alleviate the heat, not cause such a visceral reaction. "If I recall...." A finger pressed to her lips as she tapped them once, then twice. Swinging bare legs back and forth, allowing strapped sandals to hang loosely off her feet. "You were the one wearing the sinners mask." A hand splayed across her chest. "And I, naught but the innocent saint, tangled in a spiders web."  She'd end her grand statement with a light laugh, seeing him relax back in his chair put her at ease.

"Oh? Was it hot where you came from?" She'd ask. "I was West Coast....it got hot sometimes but..." She'd shield her eyes with one hand as she glanced up at the filtered light through the cloth canopy above. "Not like this." It was close, but there was an almost suffocating feel to the weather on this floor.  He made a comment about how they weren't going to get the skill just sitting around. He was right...the quicker they got the skill, the quicker they'd be able to handle this god forsaken heat. "Oh, you're right~" She'd slide herself off the sandstone table, skin catching on its surface.  Earghh...

"I'm not particularly in the mood to be dragging anyone behind me." She'd pull out a cloth and lean forward, full figure looming over him as she wiped the sweat from his brow. "But since you're oh so used to it. I don't think It'll resort to that." She'd let the cloth drop in his lap as she straightened, then stretched - popping a few muscles in her upper back. "Alternate Model." She'd say, not missing a beat. "I'm too short and wide for Miss Universe. Hell...their standards...." Alinta would lower her hands with a swing, her gaze landing on him. "I'd rather eat a good meal. Nothing against them, but - I'm happy in my own little lane." And it was true, Alinta wasn't large by any means, but the wild standards of such modeling on that scale was insane. She couldn't even imagine trying anything in Milan. No....Alinta was perfectly content with what she had.

Had. 
Would she ever be able to return to that?

"I'm sure once showered and cleaned up you'd do just fine." A press of her finger into his cheek, tit for tat. Full circle. "You have good bone structure, and a near symmetrical face." Her arms linked up under his and pulled him up and out of his seat. They had lounged around long enough.

 "But you're not alone anymore. Not unless you choose to be."

Alinta didn't acknowledge the words, at least not verbally. She had heard that promise a few times over in this digital hellscape, and each and every time they were nothing more than false platitudes. Still, a small squeeze of his arm signaled there was a hope there. That he wouldn't grow tired of her messages, that he'd offer to see her again after today. Alinta enjoyed his company, his banter. Hell - even his scent. When he wasn't dripping with sweat.

"Don't be so quick to promise things you can't keep." Alinta chided with a tight smile as he said he'd not want to leave her again. "Such nights, are fleeting. Emotions high. Roiling on the energy of a thumping bass that vibrates your very being....its entirely different to now. I get that." Her smile grew, another squeeze of his arm as she continued to lead him to their first destination. "I wouldn't fault you for it, Scar. We're all human after all."

"Alinta, if you ever want to hang out, I'll drop whatever I'm doing and be there before you finish typing the message."

                                           "I suppose it's just that I like your company."

The woman paused at this. "Please stop." Her arms would slip away from his. He sounded so earnest, the woman almost believed him. "If you don't. I'd believe you." Another moment where her confident veneer cracked, pieces of the mask crumbling away to reveal a scared and hurt woman beneath a cunning and cool facade. 

Who needed to dwell on things like flirting, partners, and whips....the two barely knew each other.

"Are you an adventurer?" Alinta paused, turnoing to see a man with a long, white beard and a slight hunch to his back.  This must be the quest guy she was told about. He was wrapped in a heavy wool cloak. Absolute insanity considering the weather. He still shook like a leaf. Alinta was thankful for the distraction. It allowed her a moment to collect herself. She had to do that a lot lately. 

A nudge of Scars shoulder. "I think this is the guy." She'd point to the name floating above the old mans head <<Zamek>>

"I am terribly sorry to bother you, but I need help. I-I have a treasure chest of sorts, buried in the desert, at the base of some uniquely shaped rocks. The contents are incredibly important to me, but I am too ill to make the journey alone. Would you escort me there? Though I cannot offer you much col.  But, should you offer your assistance, I would be eternally grateful."

 A window popped up in front of both Alinta and Scar.

A quest.... the first one she had sought out to do on her own, well...almost on her own. A sideward glance to Scar. Renewed facade. Mask taped back together again. "Sure you can handle this?" A sweet smile, a flutter of lashes as she hit accept; then - another flick as she sent her companion a party invite.

As Alinta accepted the invite Zamek coughed loudly, almost collapsing to the floor as he reached a shaky and wrinkled hand into the folds of his woolen cloak. From within it he offers both Alinta and Scar a pair of goggles each. "A-A sandstorm is comin'...please...I'll be eternally grateful..."

Alinta grabbed her own, and adjusted it so it'd sit over her head. "You know, I wasn't ever sure of the whole steampunk aesthetic." She said as she turned to Scar, offering him a cheeky tongue out. "What do ya think? Could I get away with it, Partner?"

WC; 1,037

@Scar

Edited 13 hours ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

Post Action: «Zamek» moves slowly through the desert. Mile One.

The air seemed to change to a bite right after they took their first step from the shadow of the outpost. What had been thick and hot air was now very dry and it felt as if the sun's rays had been focused right on the spot. Heat was shimmering over the sands like some elusive image of the desert was being formed from the melting of the gold. It looked as if each and every one of the sands grains was alive, running, rolling, hissing in between their boots, where the first edge of the storm could already be seen.

Jack, Scar, as she called him, squinted toward the open desert. "Guess we're really doing this," he muttered, tightening the strap of his black goggles over his eyes. The world dimmed behind the smoky lenses, shadows sharpening against the violent brightness. The moment the seal clicked into place, the faint howl of the approaching wind was muffled into a deep, restless murmur.

He glanced down at his outfit, black shirt, black shorts, black shoes.

A practical mistake.

A stupid one.

It never even crossed his mind when he was setting up his log, that in the virtual world the sun's heat would feel so palpable. The simulated atmosphere felt as if it were against his skin with a heavy weight, as it was also soaking into the fabric until it became tight on him. His shirt already stuck to his back, his hair damp from sweat.

"Well," he said with a dry chuckle, "I'm sure this was a brilliant choice."

Mostly, it was a comment to himself but he was looking at Alinta out of the corner of his eye. She looked much more suited for the environment, even if she'd complained earlier. Her confidence had returned; her mask pieced back together after that momentary crack from before. But something about it still lingered in his mind.

"Don't be so quick to promise things you can't keep.", she said.

He hadn't meant the promise as hollow. He rarely said things he didn't mean. But there was something about this world, its cruel parody of reality, that made everyone hold their words like fragile glass.

The wind rose, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Stay close," he said, lifting his voice over the growing roar. "Visibility's going to drop fast."

Sand spun around their boots now, swirling in tight spirals. An orange wall moved across the horizon as the sandstorm approached them like a living barrier. The old man, Zamek, was already teetering on his way, his silhouette bent and almost absorbed by the golden mist. Jack clamped his mouth shut and followed him, urging his instincts to come to his aid.

His body even in a game, would do the same as it always did outside of the game in dangerous situations: focus sharpened, speed controlled, all senses activated. He took a quick glance at the map to verify their route, a bright line that was visible one moment and the next the storm seemed to be disturbing the whole thing.

The world became noise and color.

Wind screamed through the dunes, dragging sand into the air like smoke. His arm brushed Alinta's as he reached forward, steadying her when the gusts pushed too hard. The goggles were good for keeping the worst of the sand out of his eyes but there was still the sting in the parts that were not covered. He was able to hear it as it settled in his hair, on his clothes, and all over his skin in an unnoticeable way and yet it was there for certain.

"I think Zamek owes us more than 'eternal gratitude," he said through a faint grin. "A drink would be a good start."

A flicker of humor helped ground him. That was something Jack, no, Scar, relied on when everything felt overwhelming. A small flame of levity against the chaos.

He showed her the direction with his eyes as they kept moving. "You ever think about how weird it is? All of this," he gestured vaguely toward the storming horizon, "Was coded. Someone sat at a desk and decided to make this real enough for us to feel it. To choke on it."

The wind swallowed his words halfway, but he continued anyway.

"I used to love the desert. Spent a few years somewhere a lot like this. Hotter, though. The kind of heat that bleaches bones. Makes you feel like you're walking inside an oven. I didn't mind it back then."

A pause.

"Guess some things change."

His voice carried a note of nostalgia buried beneath the usual steadiness. He didn't elaborate, didn't explain where or why. That part wasn't important, not yet.

Together they fought against the elements, a few feet of vision being all they had to their disposal. Through the dust the sun was nothing more than a pale white circle. Each step crunched against shifting ground. Zamek's shape wavered ahead like a mirage, vanishing and reappearing in rhythmic flashes.

He repeated his request to the woman, loudly this time, "Stay with me."

If she replied, he couldn't hear her. The world was nothing but wind and the dull, constant ping of sand against his goggles.

The storm lasted for somewhat a few minutes.

The storm lightened, the air thinned. The dunes were reshaped and new ones appeared, they looked like they had been rewritten while they hadn't been watching.

Jack breathed out, scratching his head. When he took off his goggles, he saw that his skin was slightly indented where the frame had touched it. "Well," he said, getting rid of the sand from his sleeves by rubbing them together, "Guess we survived our first sandstorm."

Turning with a speck of humor in his eyes, he said to her, "I'd say the goggles did great. Pure craftsmanship. I don't know if they really help us with the sandstorm. Not that I saw any buffs when I looked them over."

Despite the exhaustion, he was smiling. Genuine this time. There was something about surviving a storm together, even a digital one, that created a fragile thread of connection. Shared experience. Shared discomfort.

As the old man hobbled forward again, muttering about his treasure, Jack's gaze lingered briefly on Alinta. His earlier words echoed again, You're not alone anymore. Not unless you choose to be.

He wondered if what he had said struck a chord with her, but he knew for certain that he wasn't going to keep false promises. Especially to Alinta.

He cleared his throat, straightening. "Alright. We keep moving. You keep the map open, I'll make sure nothing blindsides us."

He fell into step beside her again, sand crunching underfoot. The air was still thick with heat, but the worst had passed. They were two silhouettes moving across an endless gold horizon, their shadows long and then beneath the unforgiving sun.

"You know," he said after a quiet moment, his tone playful again, "If this old man's treasure turns out to be something ridiculous like a rusty sword, I'm blaming you."

He glanced over, the faintest smirk tugging his mouth. "Partner."

* * *

Spoiler

a storms a brewin'

ID: 255943 | CD: 11 | Success!

WC: 1,191

Edited 12 hours ago by Scar

[Alinta 0]

Post Action: INTERACTING WITH THE BANDITS
ID: 255944  CD: 5: No Damage

For a man on his deathbed, Zamek sure could move. His little waddled footsteps shifted him ahead of the unlikely pair. Seemingly unaffected by the storm that lifted burning sands up and around her. "O-oww..." She'd yelp and flinch as it whipped against her bare skin. She shifted closer to Scar, wrapping two arms around one his, held tight to him as she let him take the lead. "Hah..." She would curl into him tighter. The irony not lost on her as she made a small joke. "This...is kinda like the dance no?" She had to cover her mouth to talk, not wanting to swallow any more sand than she had to. She regretted wearing sandals, for every step she took her feet would sink into the sand and it'd pour over her like boiling, roiling water. They were well into the thick of it now. No turning back No matter how much regrets the woman had.

Ten minutes passed...then twenty...her back was wet with sweat and sand was in places she really wished it wasn't. The woman would groan as she leaned a head into Scar's shoulder. "I have so many regrets...." She mumbled. "Next time remind me to cover up like you..." Another tug of his arm as she would wipe her glistening forehead against his sleeve, wiping both sweat and sand onto his jacket.

"Next time...." A pause, if there would even be a next time after this... "You pick, and I promise I won't complain, too much."

Alinta kept an eye on her map, just like he had asked her to. Nothing out of the ordinary so far, and with the promise that he'd keep an eye out Alinta felt a little safer. She didn't have any weapons or armour, so was practically useless. After this...she'd have to look into it. The winds began to ease up a little and she was able to finally breathe a sigh of relief. Finally feeling like she was able to talk again.  "If it's an old rusty sword...I'll buy you dinner." Alinta would offer. "Just, please no more ramen..." It was what half the stores offered. "Anything else you'd desire?"  With a casual grin Scar would call her his partner again and the woman would shift her glance back to the map. Clearing her throat. "R-Right. Partner. I wasn't sure if you wanted to do something again after this."

At least they were close to their destination - a single dip over the horizon and it seemed like their destination was in sight...not that she could really see it, just the small ping of the location on her map. Maybe She shouldn't be so quick to finish this. If it were here....she'd not be so keen to hang out with someone who dragged her into a sandstorm. Still, Alinta tried not to let the negative thoughts get to her. She was impressed by the way Scar had quickly taken control of the situation - going as far as to position himself to shield her from the constantly changing winds.  "Why doesn't this seem to affect the old guy?" 

Before Scar could answer, Alinta was jerke away from him. Something had coiled around her ankle and was quickly dragging her away. Alinta screamed in terror as she tried to grasp at the rope, manicured nails unable to catch beneath its fibres. Shit shit shit shit.... she was terrified. Were these player killers!? "RUN!" Alinta screamed at Scar, "J-Just RUN!" She didn't want him dragged down with her.
 

"Well, well, well. Looks like we caught a fresh one." Came a gruff voice, followed by an eruption of laughter. Alinta was shaking, terrified. She looked up to see a trio of people dressed up in sand coloured outfits looming over her. Her attention immediately went above their heads. Nothing? Were...they not players? Or were they using some sort of disguise...  Alinta couldn't be sure. Not after the Masquerade and knowing that one could hide their player crystal."What you doin' out here alone missy?"  The one one the left spoke first, poking her in the side with the blunt end of his weapon.

"I--uhm...j-just sunbathing..." She stammered, an absolutely terrible liar, and a lie that no sane person would believe. Her words caused another wave of cold and callous laughter. "Alone! I'm alone!" She screamed out. Her goggles fogged up from the tears that stung her eyes. Why did this always happen whenever she left the safe zone? First the Shark thing and now this? Or was it that this floor just hated her?

The woman managed to kick off the rope around her ankle and tried to scramble up to run away, but was immediately tripped up, falling face first into the sad. "URgh..."

She hope Scar was safe.

 

WC:807

 

Edited 11 hours ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Interacting with the Bandits

The‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ desert was like an insatiable beast, devouring them whole. 

Each wind that blew was almost like a creature of its own, screaming through the sand hills and biting any skin that was not covered with the most sharp grains of the desert. The goggles were of some help, not much though. They were more of a comfort than a true defense, but Jack was thankful for them nonetheless. Anything that made it easier to keep Alinta safe was worth the trouble.

He could hardly see her shape next to him through the pouring sand. Small, holding, and her arm was wrapped very firmly around his. The laugh that she did was very low, made up of being tired and trying to be funny. 

"This...is kinda like the dance no?"

Jack chuckled softly, even as he turned his head to shield his face from the storm. "You really know how to pick the romantic moments, huh?" he teased, his voice muffled behind his scarf. 

But even through the humor, he could feel her trembling. Underneath all her usual things that she says and does for show, there was a very quiet kind of fragility, something that was very raw and that she kept carefully hidden behind her teasing and smirking. Every so often, the cracks showed, like now. When the storm hit, when her confidence faltered. And every time, it made something tighten in his chest.

She pressed herself closer, curling against his arm. He could feel her warmth even through the layers of fabric. "Next time, remind me to cover up like you," she said with a groan.

Jack smiled beneath his collar. "I'll take that as a promise that there will be a next time."

When she wiped her forehead against his sleeve, smearing sand and sweat onto his jacket, he didn't complain. It was a small thing, but he found himself oddly grateful for it. A sign of closeness. Familiarity. Something worth holding onto in this world where everything felt temporary.

The wind finally began to die down after what felt like an eternity. The storm's howling dulled into a soft hiss, and visibility returned little by little. They could see Zamek trudging along ahead, somehow unaffected by the chaos, his small frame moving through the desert like he belonged there.

Alinta sighed, shoulders relaxing. "If it's an old rusty sword, I'll buy you dinner," she offered, voice light but tired. "Just… please no more ramen." Jack tilted his head, amused. "Dinner, huh? You sure you're not using treasure hunts as an excuse for dates?"

She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Anything else you'd desire?"

He was about to say it, that one word, but he stopped himself, biting the inside of his cheek. Too early. Too easy to destroy the little balance they had. Instead, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Say the word, Alinta," he said quietly. "We'll run around Aincrad together."

It was that hesitation again, that stutter that cracked through the armor. Jack noticed it more than he should have. Not because it made her seem weak, but because it made her seem real.

He smiled to himself, then lifted his gaze to Zamek. "You ever get the feeling the old guy’s not even human?" he muttered, half-joking. "Maybe he's got some secret buff."

"Why doesn’t this seem to affect him?" she asked aloud, voicing the same thought.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, "Maybe he has the Survi-"

Alinta screamed interrupting him. 

He looked where the sound came from and saw a figure dragging her backward while the sand flew up from the ground where her feet were. Something was wrapped around her ankle. 

"Alinta!"

He lunged forward, hand outstretched, fingers grazing the air where she had been just a heartbeat ago. Then she was gone—dragged into the dunes, her cries fading beneath the rising storm.

"Damn it!" Jack's yelling was absorbed by the wind. He hurriedly took out his scimitar, one swift move, as he ran toward the place where she had been taken. His feet were going deep into the sand, each step was a fight, but he didn't care. He couldn't lose her, not like this.

The storm built again, thicker, crueler. The goggles fogged from the heat of his breath, but he kept pushing forward. His mind screamed at him to stay calm, to think tactically, but all he could hear was her voice echoing, RUN! Just run! 

"No chance," he said quietly. "Not leaving you behind."

Minutes felt like hours. He was looking over the sand mounds with the greatest impatience and at last, through the clearing of the storm, the figure lying on the ground caught his eye.

He stumbled toward her, dropping to his knees beside her motionless form. "Alinta!" His voice cracked, raw with panic. "Alinta, can you hear me?"

Her face was half-buried in sand, her breathing shallow but steady. Relief flooded through him, dizzying and overwhelming. He brushed the sand from her cheek and lifted her gently into his arms, shielding her from the lingering wind with his body. 

"Hey," he murmured, his tone soft now. "You're okay. I've got you."

And then there were the footsteps. 

He froze.

Out of the haze in front of him, three figures appeared, they were walking confidently as if they were used to doing it. Bandits, he was able to infer this from their equipment, their demeanor, and the way their weapons were lowered as if they had been waiting for their victim, to be attacked. 

Jack cautiously Alinta down from his arms, standing up, and positioning himself between her and the coming people. The scimitar in his hand was slightly illuminated by the setting sun.

"Stay where you are," was his command, delivered in a low tone and with menace.

The wind was playing with his shirt and sand was dancing around them. His position was steady, defensive, a single barrier between her and whatever was to come.

The bandits didn't stop. One smirked. Another laughed under his breath.

Jack's hand on his sword handle became firmer. The number of his opponents did not bother him. They weren't getting to her.

Not now. Not ever.

* * *

Scar | HP: 120/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2
Alinta | HP: 560/560 | EN: 74/74 | DMG: 1 | LD: 2

Spoiler

a storms a brewin'

ID: 255946 | CD: 1 | 20 Damage Taken

WC: 1034

Edited 9 hours ago by Scar

[Alinta 0]

ID: 255947 - CD:10 NO DAMAGE
Post Action: Interact with Bandits

 

 

 "Alinta, can you hear me?"

 

Scar? Why was he here? Alinta felt herself being picked up and pulled into a tight and sweaty embrace. So tight, and so close that she could feel his quickened breath on the back of her neck. It moved her. The woman closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder, the unbearable heat feeling welcomed in this moment. She heard the hitch in his breath and felt the desperation as he squeezed her tighter. It wasn’t just a simple hug. It was the way she could feel his heart pounding against his chest, even between all the layers of clothing. The way his voice trembled, and his lips shook. He was consoling himself just as much as he was consoling her. Alinta furrowed her brows. Why? He didn’t know her. Why did he bother coming here? He could have run away. Finished the quest. “O…Okay…I’ll go on one…” she mumbled. The least she could do to calm him. An addled response to an earlier conversation cut too short too quickly.

“I've got you.”
 

Alinta weakly laughed. “W-Who you trying to comfort?” A glance over his shoulder at the bandits, they laughed again - and it…sounded exactly like it did before. It was uncanny. That’s when it hit her. They were just NPCs…. They weren’t player killers. Alinta gave a shuddered exhale of relief, feeling some of the tension leave her body. That… she could deal with. “W-wait…” She tried to tug on Scar as he shifted up and away from her. “NPCs…” She’d say between coughs as she dislodged grains of sand from her throat. “They’re…just….NPCs…” Scar shrugged her off and took a defensive stance in front of her.

NPCs….the old man nowhere to be seen. These must be for the quest. Meaning there’d be multiple ways to get past this right? I was told there’d be no need for fighting…so then why…

"Stay where you are,"

The bandits paused, as though assessing the situation. Alinta stood, brushing herself off. NPCs. She dealt with them daily, was able to talk to them, navigate their way of thought. She had played so many of these games…there were always alternatives. Feeling more confident now she knew they weren’t players she stood tall and straight behind Scar.

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” She began, her tone wavered at first but grew in confidence. The woman was a terrible liar but that didn’t matter when the things you were talking to weren’t human.  “The man before you is the Scar of the northern desert.”

“Oi…I think I heard o’ that before.” One of the bandits said. “Yeh…yeh I think I heard somethin’ about a scourge of the north. Is this lad it?”

“He ain’t dressed like it.”

“That’s the point. He don’t need to.”

Two of the bandits were bickering amongst themselves. The tallest; the one whom had managed to pull Alinta away in the first place challenged him. “Any proof of that lad?”

Well shit.

Alinta didn’t think that far ahead, she took a step back and behind Scar. “I don’t have any weapons…” She mumbled to him. Feeling completely useless. She had managed to persuade two of the three, but the third wasn’t so easily swayed. “A-Are you gonna be okay? I got a teleport crystal…” They could escape quickly if they needed to. Alinta fumbled, trying to push it into his hand. Failing to tell him it was the only one she had.

WC: 583

Edited 8 hours ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Interacting with the Bandits

Jack's heart was banging in his ears. Every part of his body was tight, wound up like a spring. Although the storm had quieted down to a murmur, the conflict between him and the three bandits seemed to be charged with electricity, it was like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.

Not long after, he heard it, a voice of Alinta, calm and somewhat distant.

"NPCs.."

He stopped moving momentarily. Not players? The realization hit him like a wave. His hand clutching the scimitar's handle was so strong that his knuckles must have been of a white color. He was fully prepared to cut down anyone in his way if necessary, ready to kill to protect her. His breathing became steady, a small exhale escaping him as the truth sank in. NPCs. Quest enemies.

Before he could lower his weapon, Alinta spoke again, her voice quivering but getting stronger. "The man before you is Scar of the Northern Desert." 

Jack blinked. Scar of the what now?

He was about to look at her but her voice stopped him. She was lying and yet, she was giving it her all. Next, the bandits started believing it. Two of them, at least. He saw the uncertainty flicker in their eyes, the hesitation in their stance.

He could work with that.

Jack took a slow step forward, sand crunching under his boots. He angled his scimitar so the blade caught the fading sunlight, a deliberate glint flashing across the nearest bandit's face. His voice was low, calm, but with an edge sharp enough to cut through their doubt.

"She's right." He said it like fact, simple, unflinching. "You've heard the stories. They say the sand drinks the blood of those who cross me."

He paused, watching their faces. Two of them tensed. The third, the tallest, didn't flinch. He was the one who had grabbed Alinta earlier. The stubborn type.

Jack cocked his head a little and let a smile of mockery play over his lips. "What's the bounty up to now? Two hundred thousand Col? Or was it three?"

He saw one of them whisper something to the other, clearly unsettled. Perfect. He stepped forward again slowly enough to let the tension build.

"The thing about the northern desert," Jack continued, voice dropping lower, "Is that it doesn't forget faces. You walk in thinking you're hunters.." He angled his blade downward, stabbing it gently into the sand with a soft hiss. "..but you exit as bones."

That earned him a flicker of fear. The one on the left took a half-step back. The second one followed. But the tall one still sneered, his grip tightening on his spear.

"Any proof of that, lad?" the man barked.

Jack could feel Alinta shift behind him. She whispered, "I don't have any weapons," and something in him stirred, protective and raw. He didn't take his eyes off the bandit as he reached back just enough to brush his hands against hers. "Stay behind me," he murmured, low enough only she could hear.

Then, louder, "Proof?"

In one swift motion, Jack pulled the scimitar out of the sand and slashed it through the air. The sound was carried by the wind, sharp, clean, almost like a whistle. The following wind was also fast, it raised the sand and formed a whirling cloud around them. He made use of it, moving his leg forward so that the outline of his shirt was visible behind him and the length of his shadow was extending over the dune.

"You're standing in it."

The two nervous bandits stumbled back now, visibly shaken. The third scowled but his confidence faltered for the first time. Jack could see it, the flicker of uncertainty, the fight between pride and fear.

Alinta fumbled behind him, trying to press something into his hand, a teleport crystal. He caught her wrist gently instead, shaking his head once. "Not yet," he whispered. "They'll run before we do."

He turned his attention back to the bandits. "Now, you've got two options," he explained, his voice returned to being calm but colder this time. "You can walk away, and I'll forget this happened." He lifted his scimitar, the tip catching the light again. "Or you can stay, and the desert gets three new graves."

The bandits exchanged glances. The tallest one's jaw flexed, but even he seemed to think twice. One of the others muttered something about "not worth it" and started backing off. The second dragging the tall one by the shoulder.

Jack held his blade up until they were just the outlines of the figures disappearing in the distance.

Only then did he exhale, shoulders finally loosening. The sandstorm picked up as he turned toward Alinta, a small grin tugging at his lips before he fell onto his back. "Scar of the Northern Desert, huh?" His tone was teasing now, softer. "You couldn't have picked something a little less dramatic?"

He looked at her, his eyes meeting and the scimitar disappeared into thin air and back into his inventory. "Still," he added quietly, "Nice save.. Partner."

* * *

Scar | HP: 100/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2
Alinta | HP: 560/560 | EN: 74/74 | DMG: 1 | LD: 2

Spoiler

a storms a brewin'

ID: 255948 | CD: 1 | 20 Damage Taken

WC: 849

Edited 6 hours ago by Scar

[Alinta 0]

ID: 255950 CD: 4 No Damage Taken
Post Action: Find protection from a sudden sandstorm.

 

The realization that they weren’t players set both of them at ease. Alinta, for she felt far more equipped to handle NPCs, and Scar… she wasn’t sure what ran through his head. His entire body shifted, becoming more fluid in his motions. No longer wound so tight that he may snap.

Alinta couldn’t see everything, but his words and cadence seemed to further rattle the opposition. The woman struggled to string together a believable lie but Scar said it with such resolution she almost believed him herself. A low rumbling reverb that stole command from all those around him. Husky, domineering. He continued to step forward. Talking about a bounty that didn’t exist. He certainly has a way with words…

A cautious hand on the mid of his back. Showing him she was still there, still safe. Still by his side.

"Stay behind me," he would say. Scar didn’t have to tell her twice, Alinta stepped in closer. But his movements…swift, fluid, flawless. A spark in the night, a flash of steel. Alinta barely kept up as she tried to step in time to his movements. One foot after the other she’d follow his movements, small hands clenched tight in the material of his jacket. It was almost like they were dancing, and he was leading her. But the dance floor fell away to sinking sands, and instead of a twinkle in his eye there was a cold deep and dark. His weapon howled - commanding blood be spilt but the man held back.

Another step, another flash of steel singing into the fading light and the bandits were gone. The man turned to face her, Alinta had to quickly let go of his jacket, not realizing just how tightly she had been holding it.

Scar of the Northern Desert, huh?" 

“I-Kinda panicked. I’m…really bad at lying. I mean…writing it is one thing but…” A deep inhale. “I didn’t..the moment I realized they weren’t actual players and it was part of the quest I figured…it’d be easier to talk to them…since the info broker said that we could do it without fighting.”

Alinta reached out to cup a hand to his cheek. “You’re hurt though..” Alinta wasn’t sure if it was the sandstorm…or the bandits, but there was a small chunk of health missing from his bar. Alinta immediately pulled out one of her health potions, dusty and old - something from her starter kit she had never bothered to touch. The woman paused, hesitant as she stared at it, then shook it. It made a sludgy sound. “I…was going to give this to you but…do potions go bad? Here. You decide.” Alinta quickly shoved it into his hand.

“Something worse could have happened back there.” Concern…but it gave way to frustration as Alinta gave Scar a shove. “You could have gotten hurt! What were you thinking!? I told you to run! What if they were…” The words caught in her throat. Flashes of orange crystals danced in her mind and she shut her eyes and shook her head vehemently as though she were trying to remove the thoughts. There….was little reason to be too angry at him right now.

“Thanks…” Alinta mumbled, feeling ashamed at how useless she had been. She pushed past him. Embarrassed and ashamed of herself. “C’mon…lets find the old man.”

She trudged a few feet ahead till she came across him, “Zamek? You good?”

The old man stuttered, muttering to himself. “Its coming! It’s coming!” A shaky finger would point toward an oncoming sandstorm. “Shit…” Alinta grabbed the spindly hand of the old man and then ran back towards Scar.

“Sandstorm!” She screamed. “We gotta get shelter somewhere!”

She could mope later…the first priority was to find something…anything. Her eyes scanned the horizon and she saw it, a small outcrop just ahead, shaped in just the right way to shield them from the sandstorm. And it just so happened to be on the way to their destination.  Of course…that’s how these sort of quests always went.

The three managed to slide into the rock formation moments before the storm hit. Screaming and roaring past them.

Great…just great…Alinta had been completely useless this entire quest. Now she was stuck in a dim, dark hole…pressed so close to Scar she could feel his shoulders against hers, and his legs against hers…and….Dammit…  Alinta pulled her legs up to her chest and buried her head into her knees. This was so embarrassing. The woman didn’t say anything to Scar. How could she? She had lead him on this godforsaken quest, almost got him mutilated by bandits, and now got him caught in a howling storm.

WC:776

Edited 5 hours ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

Post Action: Protection from the Sandstorm

Jack couldn't help but chuckle softly when Alinta said they weren't actual players. The tension in his shoulders eased like a bowstring finally slackening. "I didn't think I'd react that way," he admitted, glancing at the sand that was passing over them. The adrenaline was only now fading from his system. "Guess I didn't realize until you pointed it out to me."

His voice was half amused, half sheepish. For a moment, he almost looked embarrassed, like a child caught doing something impulsive. "If those had been real players, I probably would've.." He trailed off, shaking his head with a faint laugh. "Doesn't matter now. You handled it better than I did."

Before he could say more, Alinta pressed something into his palm. A potion. It looked like it had been stored for a while and only half-remembered, and the consistency looked, somewhat questionable. Jack examining it in his hand, and after giving it a little swirl, he was raising his eyebrow. The liquid inside made a thick, syrupy sound. "Huh. I think this might be older than both of us," he said lightly.

He could see the concern in her eyes as she explained, could feel the frustration radiating off her when she shoved past him. He didn't stop her, just watched her retreating back with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Even when she was angry, she was endearing.

Jack took a good look at the mysterious drink once more, and then with his thumb, he broke the seal and opened the bottle. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, taking a swig.

The taste hit him instantly, sickly sweet cherry with an aftertaste that burned like cheap alcohol. He gagged a little, coughing once before laughing under his breath. "Okay.. There is no way things in this game age.. Right..?" But he could feel it working, the faint shimmer of light crawling up his arm as his HP bar filled back to normal.

He wiped off his clothes a little, did a shoulder stretch and then went after Alinta's tracks in the sand. When he found her again, she was already speaking to Zamek, only to suddenly grab the old man's hand and start sprinting back toward him, yelling something that made his stomach drop.

"Sandstorm!"

Jack's reaction was faster than his thought. He ran toward her, and as the first harsh winds were hitting them from the back, he reached out to Alinta and Zamek to support them. In unison, they braved the advancing gale and were on their way. Sand clawed at their clothes, their faces, their lungs, until finally, they dove into the shelter of a rock outcrop just as the storm hit in full force.

Outside, the sound of the sandstorm was very loud. The world beyond their little cave had disappeared in a whirl of gold and grit.

Jack‍‌‍‍‌‍‌‍‍‌ was panting while resting his back against the wall. Then, he looked at Alinta, who was very tightly curled-up with her face buried in her arms. He could see from the nature of her shoulders that she was definitely upset however, not terrified, just… annoyed. Probably angry at herself.

In between, he got down next to her and there was only a little distance between them left. Sharing warmth, but not that Alinta might have felt uncomfortable. Jack's whole attention was on listening to the harsh wind which was hitting the rocks, the cracks in between the rocks taking the rumbles and the wind's sounds like distant thunder.

Then, quietly, he nudged her shoulder with his.

"Don't be too angry with me," he said softly, his tone half-apology, half-playful. "But I just couldn't leave you all alone. I don't think there's ever been a hero in history who abandoned someone in need." She may not have answered, but he also perceived the slight change to her posture. A sign that she was listening.

He grinned a little. "Besides, you think I'd let some sand-covered wannabe bandits drag you off? Not a chance."

He leaned his head back against the rock, staring up at the dim light filtering in through the cracks above. "You know," he continued, his voice quieter now, "You actually did great out there. The way you talked them down, that was quick thinking. I was ready to swing first and ask questions never."

A small laugh escaped him, and then he rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess we both kinda panicked, huh? You with your 'Scar of the Northern Desert' thing and me just.. going full bodyguard mode."

He turned his head slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You said you're bad at lying, but honestly? You had me believing it too."

Still no response, but he saw the way her shoulders eased just a little.

Jack sighed softly, not from frustration but a quiet contentment. "Look, Alinta.. I get it. You think you messed up back there, but you didn't. You stayed calm when it mattered. You kept us from fighting when we didn't need to. That's not useless." He paused, tone softening even more. "That's brave."

The wind outside howled louder, and Jack glanced toward the cave's opening before looking back at her. "We'll get through this storm, too. Then we'll find Zamek's treasure or whatever nonsense he's leading us toward. After that, maybe.. we grab that dinner you promise."

He grinned faintly, eyes glinting with that familiar teasing spark. "Assuming it's not ramen again."

A few moments passed before he spoke again, quieter now, almost to himself. "The truth is.. Protecting the ones I love and fighting for them is what I really like. I just didn't know I would have to do it so soon." He had a soft laugh and then, he moved his head to the side so that it was the only shoulder that touched hers. "Guess you just bring that out of me, Partner."

The tempest outside was still going on, but the little space that they had between them was almost like a haven of peace, the air being heavy with heat, sand, and the unuttered understand between them.

* * *
 

Spoiler

 

Scar consumes Starter Healing Potion.

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4 | ACC: 2
Alinta | HP: 560/560 | EN: 74/74 | DMG: 1 | LD: 2

a storms a brewin'

ID: 255951 | CD: 10 | Success!

 

WC: 1021

Edited 5 hours ago by Scar

[Alinta 0]

Post Action: Safely Escort Zamek to the Hiding Spot
ID:255952 CD:11 - NO DAMAGE

“Not angry with you…” Alinta said quietly. Feeling worse now, he thought she was mad at him? Maybe she was, just a little but… She’d lift her head slowly from her knees, then she’d pull her goggles off and wipe them on her top. Alinta began to fiddle with them, thumbs rubbing errant grains of sand from the glass. It was quiet in the little cave, almost cozy…if one could ignore the howling winds outside and the mutterings of the old man next to Scar.

Alinta wasn’t sure how to tell him what she was feeling, but the man seemed to catch on. Her eyes shifted to him, head tilting toward him and leaning against his shoulder as she watched his eyes travel ahead - how the filtered light of the setting sun would reflect on his goggles. How his form seemed to relax. She wished she had the strength he had. Hell… even without her saying anything he seemed to catch onto what she was feeling. Alinta allowed him to talk, staying silent for the most part. Barely acknowledging him. Allowing him to say all he had to say.

"That's brave."

“I don’t know if it was quick thinking.” Alinta said quietly, reaching out to wipe the sand from his own goggles. “I just had the information from the quest and used it. I froze when I thought they were…” She drew her hand back away. Her eyes falling to the ground, focusing on a random sooth pebble that would rattle every so often from the vibrations outside. “I’m terrified of Pkers. It’s not the quests or the monsters. It’s people. Isn’t it always people who fuck it all up in movies? Even in zombie apocalypse ones….it is always…people. I used to think Hollywood exaggerated. But look at how many lives are on that monument.”

Alinta shifted, leaning further into him. Scar didn’t move away and she took that as a sign that he was at least okay with this much. “I’m…embarassed of how I acted. I should have been better. I should have prepared a weapon, or armour…or anything. But I didn’t.” Alinta tilted her head up toward him, offering Scar a faint smile. He had a way of making her feel better about her own shortcomings. 

“I should have said it properly earlier, but thanks Scar. For what it's worth. You’re making this bearable. If I had done this alone I would have left already. Back to that crappy inn on the first floor.” She let her hand fall onto his and offered it a squeeze.

“We will get anything you like.”

The howling outside began to stop, and the old man muttered something in disdain toward the two as he tried to shuffle out. Alinta sighed as she tightened her goggles back over her head. Intimate moment denied by the old man.

Alinta watched as Zamek wriggled his way out of the small entrance. “That’s…admirable, wanting to protect people…but isn’t it better - to not need that?” Alinta asked. She went to follow the old man, pausing as she went over what he had said again. Protecting those I love.

A glance over her shoulder at him, curious, concerned. Scar had just offered her a wry grin back. Telling her she brought that side out in him. “Mmm….” She turned to shimmy out of the cave entrance then helped pull Scar out too. She reached out and did her best to wipe the dust and dirt off of his jacket. “I’ll try not to bring that out in you too often. I’ll do better at protecting myself.” Alinta let one hand linger, just a moment. Palm flat against his chest. He was a head or so taller than her, but Alinta didn’t mind looking up at him. “Maybe one day I can be your bodyguard. Scar of the Northern Desert.”

“Its here!” Zamek cried, waddling away from the two. Alinta shot Scar an exasperated look a she jogged to catch up to Zamek, who fell to his knees by a nearby pile of rocks. “Uhm…these are just rocks.”

The man pushed Alinta out the way, she stumbled back into Scar. Zamek dropped to his knees, he started digging with a newfound vigor. Wheezing. Alinta would have been mad at him for shoving her so hard she almost fell over but he was wheezing so hard she wasn’t sure he’d survive.

The top of a chest comes into view. It was small, and made of wood, Zamek coughed as he dragged it ito his lap, leaning against the large rock formation. He slips a tiny key into the lock, turns it, then eases the lid back. All at once, a variety of emotions explode across his weathered face. Though he smiles, his dark eyes fill with tears as he lifts out a stack of letters. 

Letters?

“So…” Alinta looked up at Scar. “If a sword was worth a dinner…what’s a stack of paper worth?”

"These belonged to my late wife," Zamek stutters, "as did these." With his other hand, he pulls out a pile of beaten and worn jewels, shoving a small handful toward both Alinta and Scar. Not exactly worth a lot…but it was at least something.

"Between the bandits that frequently raid our village, and our greedy family members, I knew my most valuable items would be taken from me. That's why I hid them."

Alinta didn’t think the bandits were all too ready to steal love letters but she kept that thought to herself, instead she crossed her arms and glanced away. “Suppose it’s sweet…” she mumbled. 

"Thank you. You've made an old man very happy."

<<Quest Complete>>
Survival Skill Obtained
 

The moment the notification popped up the air grew…well…pleasent almost. You could still tell it was hot, but it wasn’t blistering. “Oh!” Alinta tore off the goggles. Sand still whipped up in the winds around them, but it wasn’t pummeling her face. “Hey…” She turned on her heel to face Scar. “Can you feel that?” She asked, suddenly feeling invigorated now she wasn’t suffering from near heat stroke.

WC:1014

 

Edited 4 hours ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

The wild storm battered the cliffs around them with its howling force, the crashing waves and wind rattling the walls as if a wildly scratching animal was trying to get in. Jack still had sand on his shirt, which was picking at the bottom of the wall where he was leaning against the stone. His breathing was even now, adrenaline slowly leaving his system and taking with it only the faint sore feeling of the line of shallow cuts and the tight feeling of his chest. The fight, short as it was, had come to an end. The desert, however, was never done testing them.

He glanced at Alinta. She sat with her knees pulled tight against her chest, goggles fogged and streaked from sand, her hair tousled and wild from the wind. For a moment, she looked so small in that dim light, small, but stubbornly unbroken.

When she muttered that she wasn't angry with him, he exhaled a quiet laugh, more of a huff, really as if he had been holding that breath longer than he realized. "Could've fooled me," he said, voice soft but colored with a hint of humor. His hand brushed away some sand from his sleeve as he leaned forward slightly. "You had that look. The 'I told you so' kind".

His lips were nearly drawn to the words by a faint smile, but his voice remained soft. "Guess I deserved it."

The potion she'd given him still sat in his hand, sloshing faintly when he turned it. He popped the cork and gave it a cautious sniff. Cherry. Somehow that surprised him. After a brief moment of doubt, he went ahead and took a drink. The first taste was quite syrupy and over sweetened, kind of like a candy that had been made with medicine, but the warmth later on told him that it was still effective. "Guess they don't go bad after all." he said quietly, as he was rolling the empty vial between his fingers. "Good to know."

The only noise for a long time was that of the storm and it was coming through the rock muffled. When she finally spoke, it was in a low, hesitant voice, about Player Killers, people being the true monsters, and fear. He was listening quietly and not interrupting once. Only when she put her head on his shoulder did he reply.

"You're not wrong," he said. His voice came low, thoughtful. "It's always people that ruin the good things. Monsters.. you can see them coming. You know where you stand. But people?" He gave a small humorless laugh. "People will smile at you while they sharpen the knife."

He turned his head slightly to glance at her, his expression softening. "But you're not like them. You still care enough to worry. That's what separates you from the ones who don't."

Her head still rested lightly against his shoulder, and he didn’t move away. For once, he felt at ease. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the warmth of another person in the middle of that endless wasteland. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to break it. 

When she thanked him, genuinely, awkwardly, but from the heart, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head. "Don't thank me yet. I just happened to be standing between you and a few bad decisions." Then, after a pause, his voice softened again. "But.. I'm glad you didn't do this alone either. Guess fate has a weird way of pairing people up."

The storm began to die down then, like the world itself had exhaled. The howling eased to a whisper, the light shifted, and the oppressive weight of the desert heat lessened just a fraction. Zamek grumbled nearby, ever the unwilling chaperone, and Jack smiled faintly at the absurdity of it all.

As the old man squeezed out of the narrow gap toward the open air, Alinta followed, not before giving Jack one last glance and a teasing promise to do better, to not "bring that side out" in him so often. He watched her dust off his jacket, the warmth of her palm lingering longer than she realized. "You could try," he said with a lopsided grin. "But I'm not so sure I'd stop you."

When she mentioned being his bodyguard, he laughed under his breath. "Bodyguard, huh? Maybe one day. But until then.." He tilted his head slightly, meeting her gaze. "You just keep being you. I'm okay with that for now."

Zamek’s shout cut through the air before he could say more, drawing both their attention. The discovery of the chest, the letters, the jewels, all of it seemed surreal after the chaos of the storm. Jack stepped up beside Alinta, watching as the old man clutched the letters with trembling hands. There was something achingly human about it, something that cut through the game-like haze of their reality. 

When Alinta made her dry remark about the papers, he smirked faintly. "Guess sentiment's worth more than gold to some," he said quietly, watching the man's tears streak through the sand on his face.

Then, that familiar flicker of light. The system message. Quest complete.

Jack exhaled through his nose, almost in disbelief. "Huh. Survival skill, huh? Finally." He brushed a bit of grit off his shirt and looked around. The air did feel different now. Lighter. Calmer. He turned when Alinta called to him.

"Yeah." he said, feeling that faint smile tug at his lips again. "I can feel it."

For the first time since the desert swallowed them, he didn't feel like he was running from something.

* * *

WC: 939

[Alinta 0]

Its always people that ruin good things.

“Not you.” Alinta said quietly, far too long after the conversation had ended for him to truly get her meaning. Scar would no doubt look over at her with a confused quirk to his angled brow, but Alinta would simply reach up and wipe the sand from his face, repeating her sentiment.  “Not you.”

As they watched the old man quietly sob, clutching the letters as though they were the only thing that truly mattered in the worl Alinta couldn’t help but find her hand fall into Scars. Why was she so awkward with him?

It hadn’t been like this with others. With others Alinta was able to keep that confident facade, right on into the bedroom if need be. But this? A sideward glance at him. They hadn’t had the chance to properly talk after the ball. With her dragging her out into a literal sandstorm. And not the good kind, by Darude, the bad kind - by nature. Cruel and unyielding. 

“Fate huh….” A squeeze of his hand. “Pretty sure my name’s Alinta, not fate. I approached you remember?” A small smirk and a smile. “Although, it was because you were hoggin’ all the strawberries.”

"But I'm not so sure I'd stop you."

Alinta wasn’t so sure she would want him to stop her. But…for the time being, she stayed quiet, as they shared in that silent solemn moment with old man Zamek. Letting the emotion of the sacred moment sink in. Life was short. Precious, and precarious, even for someone like the NPC, fleeting - and cruel and yet…

Perhaps fate did have a funny way of working.

WC:276


----

Alinta | [Word Count: 13419/5 = 2683.8] * [True Tier: 3] * [Group Factor: 1] = 8049 EXP + 500 Quest Exp = 8549 EXP + 500 col + <<Survival>>
Scar | [Word Count: 13419/5 = 2683.8] * [True Tier: 1] * [Group Factor: 1] = 2683 EXP + 500 Quest Exp = 3183 EXP + 500 col + <<Survival>>                                                  
 

Edited 2 hours ago by Alinta