Three days later…
Just as always, the Adventurer's Guild was bustling with activity as adventurers filled the building and took to their myriad of activities. The thrumming echo of conversations filled the building alongside the sounds of steps, clinking armor and weapons, and the general hustle and bustle of the mid-day. Food and drink moved just as frequently as people, carried to tables by the work staff with a pep to their step, either to adventurers starting their day or having just returned from a quest.
And one such table where food was being delivered to was occupied by a young man who many considered to be the Frontier's Strongest, a silver-ranked adventurer whose claim to fame had begun on the day he delivered the finishing blow to a gargantuan Rock Eater that could have threatened many towns and villages if left by.
A wanna-be casanova, whose eyes remained solely focused on a certain clerk working at the Adventurer's Guild, regardless of the silent pining from his travel companion, but who nevertheless remains a noble soul. But right now, as he grabbed the offered mug of ale and took a long drag from it, all the Spearman was, was frustrated. Something made abundantly clear by his expression and current slouch over the table.
As such, while the man would normally be more than approachable, today many adventurers gave him a respectable berth.
"Trouble in paradise for ya?"
The black-haired knight hauling a sword as big as his own body, however, was not one of said adventurers.
The young man approached Spearman with ease and familiarity, sitting himself down on the bench across from his fellow adventurer without a care, and giving the red-haired warrior a knowing smile. "Hope this isn't over being rejected one more time," said the swordsman half-teasingly. "If you give up that easy, I'll start questioning those credentials of yours you tout around."
Spearman, in return, merely grumbled before taking another gulp from his mug, shooting a stink-eye over its lid to his fellow silver-ranked adventurer. "My luck with women is perfectly fine, you know."
"Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that… So, what's biting at you, then?"
Once he set the mug down, Spearman gave out a long, weary sigh, before casting a glance over his shoulder to a corner of the room, where his partner was currently speaking to another group of spellcasters, all of them seemingly deeply focused on whatever they were discussing. After a moment more, the warrior then turned back to his fellow silver-rank, and pinned him with a dead-serious look. "Did you hear about those bandits I found on the road?" he asked calmly, though the hints of steel flitting in his eyes betrayed his inner anger. "The ones strung up on the crosses?"
Almost instantly, Heavy Warrior's expression darkened, his smile being replaced by a deep frown as he recalled the rumors that had reached the town not long ago, and the man leaned back on his seat. "Yeah, I did… you and your partner found them, right?"
"Sure did. And it wasn't that far from here, either, which immediately made me think this was some cult of Chaos trying to seed some panic around, so I started doing some digging for information."
"And did you find anything?"
To no surprise from Heavy Warrior's part, Spearman's response was to shake his head. "Not a thing. Nobody heard anything about cultists or demons in the area, or about more deaths like that." Heaving another sigh, Spearman then took another long drag from his mug before continuing. "And trust me, I asked around a LOT… plus, it still doesn't make sense to me. What kind of cultist kills bandits and writes 'degenerates belong on a cross'?"
"You think it could be some kind of vigilante or criminal?" asked Warrior in turn. "Someone who lost family or friends to bandits?"
"Could be… but with how torn-apart the bodies were, it looked more like a wild animal had killed them. Never seen any kind of weapon tear someone to pieces like that."
Both men promptly slipped into heavy, thoughtful silence, their eyes downturned towards the table, until it was interrupted by the arrival of Spearman's long-time partner, who promptly sat herself down next to her unknowing love interest, one hand holding her smoking pipe while the other held up her staff. "Got anything?"
"No.. unfortunately… not…" replied Witch wistfully, taking a long drag from her pipe. "They did not… know anymore… than we did…"
Her response elicited a sharp
tsk from Spearman, the adventurer propping his head atop a closed fist. "Dammit, no dice then…"
Silence once more fell upon the trio, but this time, it lasted an even shorter amount of time, for Heavy Warrior ended it by clapping his hands quite loudly. "Alright, enough moping around," said the young man firmly, drawing the attention of both his colleagues to himself. "If whoever or whatever killed those bandits hasn't done so again, either they're gone, or they're hiding. One way or another, unless someone puts up a quest for it, we're outta luck. So for now, just let it go."
And while at first he gave the warrior a half-glare, finally, after a brief pause, Spearman let out one final sigh, followed by a small smirk. "Yeah… suppose you're right."
"Perhaps… it is for… the best," added Witch, the young woman smiling softly at her partner.
"Besides, it's not like the killer is just gonna waltz through the door."
Bang!
"FINALLY, HOME!"
Suddenly, the doors to the main hall were thrown open with a sound not unlike that of a thunderclap, and as a result drawing the attention of many adventurers, including the silver-ranked trio sitting together. And lo and behold, in strode a porcelain-ranked party, its five members walking with their heads held high, chief of which were the Valkyrie warrior and lizardman fighter leading the group forward, while behind the two a young acolyte and a dark elf rogue followed closely, their spirits just as cheerful, yet far more sedated than their compatriots.
And yet, it was the figure walking calmly behind the other four adventurers that drew the most attention to herself. With her black coat flapping gently with every step, the strange armor unlike anything the adventurers had ever seen, and the exotic weapons hanging from her body, the fifth member of the party was a most unique sight… at least, for Spearman and Witch. For Heavy Warrior, it was just confirmation that the woman indeed had what it took to be an adventurer. "Well, would you look at that," said the young man, a small smile forming on his face as he watched the newly-arrived party walk past them. "Guess she managed to pull it through."
The comment, in turn, made Spearman turn his head toward the warrior, one eyebrow quirked up. "You know that weirdo?"
"Know her? Heck, I officiated her into the Guild. Me and my partner did observation for her entry test, and she's… well, she's definitely something else. Blew any expectation I had completely out of the water."
"Is she really that good?"
"No doubt. A bit rough around the edges in some skills, but she's definitely got the ability to back it up."
Answer received, Spearman gave a wordless hum in return as he eyed the passing party, gauging them carefully. For porcelain-ranked adventurers, they most definitely looked like a cut above the rest: their equipment was of better quality, they seemed much more prepared, but most of all, there was a definite sense of unity between the four,
especially between the lizardman and the acolyte, if those stares they were aiming at each other was anything to go by. Well, so long as it did not interfere with the cohesion of the party, who was him to judge how others lived their life?
However, Spearman's attention was focused primarily on the last member, the one Heavy Warrior had apparently helped test. Because for some reason, every time he laid eyes on the woman, the adventurer couldn't help but feel that…
something was up with her. Something
dangerous, hiding just beneath the surface, and which put his senses on edge.
It wasn't an outright
evil feeling, granted, but it still felt dangerous.
"Something… on your… mind?"
Hearing his partner call his attention, Spearman turned towards Witch, who was eyeing him curiously, pipe held loosely in her grasp as always. A moment later, she turned her head ever-so-slightly to stare at the same group, or more specifically, at the same person he had been eyeing since they arrived, who were now all huddled around the reception desk, speaking to one of the attendants manning it. And as the group's acolyte and the strange woman moved away from the group, and towards one of the back rooms reserved for at-length reports, Spearman made a mental note to keep an eye on the newcomer, just in case.
One helmeted weirdo was already plenty enough for the Guild.
With that in mind, Spearman shook his head, then turned towards the waitress, waving at her with a free hand.
"Yeah… but I can leave it for later."
-O-
A little over an hour later…
"So after the Courier used the artifact to kill the undead construct and the lesser lich, no more undead appeared to attack us. We combed both the catacombs and the cemetery itself, but we can fully confirm that for now, the undead problem has been completely dealt with."
Watching Acolyte give the report to the Guild worker was quite a learning experience, the Courier realized. While she would have been more than able to list out total kill numbers, general aspects of the quest, and some of the more generic pointers of the enemies, the Mojave native knew she was still quite ignorant regarding the finer details of things from this land. She couldn't accurately identify how large of a threat a "lesser lich" was considered to be for the Guild, or how common such a being was, or even if the creation of the "amalgam" was something outside the norm.
In contrast, Acolyte showed a much more thorough knowledge regarding the undead the party had faced, not to mention presenting the facts related to what they had found inside the catacomb. It was a genuine learning experience for the Courier to watch her speak, and if she had a terminal or even a notebook in hand, she would have been writing down everything for later research, maybe at a library or with other adventurers. Maybe she could ask for a copy of the report later, for study?
Regardless, at the very least, her first quest had ended with a resounding success: none of her erstwhile party members had died during the quest, and had successfully defeated the cause of the problems plaguing the village, even when faced with completely unexpected odds. Were this a Brotherhood mission, they'd most likely have received a commendation, if not a promotion of some sort, but it seemed that in this world, even slaying something as fantastical as a magic-slinging skeleton was not something that fantastical in the greater scheme of things.
An important lesson for the future.
With one last flourish of her quill, the Guild worker set the report aside, and gave the two women in front of her a small bow of the head. "Thank you for the report. We understand you were faced with unexpected circumstances in your quests, but the Guild nonetheless congratulates you all on your success." She then lowered herself slightly, and withdrew a decently-sized pouch from somewhere underneath the table, which she promptly set down atop the table and pushed towards both Acolyte and the Courier, before gracing the two adventurers with a friendly smile. "And, if I may add as a personal note… I'm glad you've all returned safe and sound."
"Just doing our job, miss," replied the Courier, her voice free of the modulating effect thanks to her helmet currently being clipped to the side of her waist, as she pulled the pouch closer and passed it over to Acolyte, the young girl in turn taking the bag of what the Courier could easily tell was money (
actual money, not caps, she had to remind herself somewhat sheepishly) and placing it within the satchel she had hanging from her side. "Keeping people safe is our job, after all, no matter the danger."
The attendant's smile widened a small inch in response, before she rose to her feet and gave the two adventurers a small bow. "Nevertheless, you all showed exemplary conduct with the handling of this quest. We hope you all continue to maintain these standards for future endeavors." And with that, the Guild Worker walked around the table, at the same time Acolyte and the Courier also rose from their seats, until she reached the door, unlocked it, and held it slightly open for the two adventurers. "Thank you for your time, and good luck with your future endeavors!"
With equal nods, the Courier and Acolyte left the room, once more rejoining the general humbug of the Guild's main hall, before quickly making a beeline to their awaiting comrades (or, in the Courier's case, erstwhile comrades) off to one of the sides of the room, sitting on benches around a small table. "So, how did it go?" asked Warrior-Priest, a lopsided grin clear on her face.
"The expected: they requested a full reportz then thanked us for our work," replied Acolyte as she pulled up an extra bench and sat herself right next to Lizard Fighter, who not-so-subtly snaked his tail over to brush against her calve in return.
"They also commended you all for facing a dangerous enemy and surviving," added the Courier, even as she remained standing near the table.
In response, Warrior-Priest huffed out a chuckle, waving one hand dismissively. "Heh, 'you all' she says… only reason we made it out of that tomb was thanks to you, Courier."
"And to think you had such a powerful holy artifact with you all this time…" mused Acolyte absent-mindedly, before she turned her head fully towards the Mojave native. "And you said you simply found them randomly around?"
"Pretty much. Never had a reason to use them until today. Didn't think they were actually holy, however…"
In response, Dark Elf let out a thoughtful hum. "There is a tale that a band of knights once used an artifact like yours to slay some kind of bloodthirsty beast living in a cave. It is said the artifact was gifted to them by an old crone of sorts."
"Is that so?"
In truth, the Courier had never managed to find any proper information on the strange grenades. All she had gotten in terms of intel was some comments by a few Brotherhood Knights about how long ago, a Knight patrol had encountered a similar explosive, but had been forced to use it against a "shockingly vicious lapin mutant", hence her passing knowledge of its devastating explosive payload. But if a similar object also existed in this world, then had it arrived here from the Wasteland, like she had? Or was it the other way around?
The reason for why it, along with A Light Shining In Darkness, seemed to align with "holy" concepts of this world, or why she had felt compelled to recite verses from Graham's gifted Bible still eluded the Courier, however. Had it been due to some anomalous nature of the "artifact" perhaps?
The questions continued to pile, yet the answers were as elusive as ever.
"Well, it's an old tale anyway, so who knows if it's really true," said Warrior-Priest with a shrug. "At least the artifact part is real, in a way!"
In response, Lizard Fighter's throat rumbled with a chuckle, his arms crossed as he gave the Courier a side glance. "Well, what matters is that we have lived through this ordeal. And we have you to thank for it, miss Courier."
Before the Mojave native could think of refuting that claim, Warrior-Priest went ahead and gave her a pat on the back. "Hell yeah she did! And this was our biggest win so far, so you know what this means? Means we gotta
celebrate!" The young woman's declaration was, in turn, met by a thoughtful hum from Acolyte, who pressed one finger against her own chin.
"Well, it certainly wouldn't eat into too much of our budget, and the occasion calls for it…" said the healer thoughtfully.
"There's a tavern that's quite popular around town," added Dark Elf Thief, with a surprising amount of emotion to his voice. "The Dear Friend's Axe Tavern, I think it's called. I'd say it's as good a place as any for it."
"Of course, you're welcome to join us, Courier."
While, admittedly, she had expected the possibility of the offer being made, the Courier still felt surprised that they had asked regardless.
Even if they all
had fought together for their lives, for all intents and purposes, they were simply acquaintances. Comrades of chance at most, assigned a job to complete by an organization they worked for. There was no reason for these strangers to show her companionship once off-work.
Or perhaps this was due to her own experiences, formed by her life in the Mojave and beyond. The Wasteland was not a place where charity and good-will could be fostered, outside of tightly-knit communities or organizations dedicated to helping, such as the Followers, or the Kings. It'd be more likely, in fact, that extending a friendly hand to someone would earn you a double-crossing if you were lucky, or a knife between the ribs if you were
unlucky, especially if you ended up in the wrong part of the Wasteland, something she had been made acutely aware of throughout her travels to find Benny, and even beyond that. More than once, amidst the then-still-lawless Freeside area, the Courier had found herself accosted by less-than-friendly people who wanted to trick, hurt, or outright kill her, sometimes a combination of the three.
Even after the Brotherhood had taken to pacifying the more hostile areas of the Mojave, there always were a random band of raiders or remnants of hostile factions that would rear their disgusting heads to try and prey on the innocent: Fiends survivors, Great Khans hardliners, rogue Powder Gangers… And Legion remnants.
That is, until she hunted them all down.
One last job, before she left the Mojave.
And now, here she was, being invited by a group of people mostly her juniors, if not in age then in sheer experience, to a celebration for a job well done, with no hidden intentions.
It'd be heartwarming, were it not also a somewhat depressing reality check for her life before arriving to this new land.
So, burying her thoughts on the situation into a deep corner of her mind, the Courier instead gave the group a nod. "I'd be happy to."
"Great!" was Warrior-Priest exuberant reply, the young woman even going as far to step forward to give the Courier a pat on the back (one that the Mojave native had to lean forward with, just to make sure the young woman didn't hurt her hand hitting her Reinforced Spine). "We'll meet after sundown then, will give us plenty of time to get ready for things."
And with that, the group walked away from their gathering spot, each of them giving farewells to the Courier before they left through the main doors, leaving the Mojave native to ponder her unusual situation.
It sounds like it'll be pretty fun! So maybe you should shower, first, Courier!
… Right. She should do that first.
… Oh, she needed to choose something other than her armor to wear, too…
The trials and tribulations of civilization.
-O-
Several hours later…
It had taken a not-inordinate amount of scrounging through her piles of clothes, but thankfully, the Courier had finally managed to put together something close to a "casual" set of clothes. Granted, none of the clothes she did have could be considered casual, but that was par for the course when you lived life on the lam for months on end, so needs must. In the end, the Courier settled for some black cargo pants and a lighter pair of boots, both pilfered from the US Army general clothes she had found on the Divide, and a white T-shirt from the Kings' "uniform".
It also included a
particular piece of apparel that the Courier had religiously kept safe, through hell and high water, more so than any other article of clothing she carried with her. Which, if one were to look at said article, they would likely wonder what made it so special. After all, it was just an old duster.
An old, sleeveless, battered but armored duster, with the flag of the Old World emblazoned proudly on its back.
Holding the duster in front of her, staring at the symbol that had marked her road into rediscovery and rebirth amidst the merciless winds of the Divide, the Courier couldn't help but lose herself to her memories of her fellow courier, the man who she had stood side-by-side with against the hordes of the Marked Men, under the gaze of the Divide giants.
The same man who watched as she scoured the Legion with the weapons of the Old World, who taught her how to survive in the wilderness enough that she could always feel at Home on the Range, and who was by her side, along with the Brotherhood, Rangers and robo-scorpions, at the Battle of the Divide.
And the man who had one day, at her request, shared the history and culture of his tribe with her, so that their legacy would be carried by one more person in the Wasteland.
"If war doesn't change, men must change…" muttered the Courier fondly, a smile forming on her face as she traced a finger over the circle of stars, and the words left in Ulysses' last tape echoed in her mind, followed by her own reply to him, when they parted ways at the edge of Vegas. "Through the roads they walk…"
With one last moment to reminisce over the man who she had changed the life of so long ago, and who in turn came to change who she was, the Courier slipped the duster on, feeling the armored, ballistic-weave-inlaid cloth brush against what skin she had exposed on her upper half, before finally picking up the very last article of clothing she had decided to use tonight:
A black desperado cowboy hat, with a grey band lined with silver symbols.
Slipping the hat atop her head, the Courier gave herself one last look-over to make sure her clothes were at least clean enough to look presentable, before turning to the only other (technical) occupant in the room. "Well, how do I look, Aura?"
"
You look dashing, Courier!" replied the Stealth Suit mk. II from where it currently hanged, aka the inside of the closet. "
Are you sure you don't need to go sneaking around, though?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Just keep an eye out for anyone trying to break in, and tell mer over the radio if there's an intruder."
"
Okay,… have fun at the tavern, then ! I'll stay here and be super stealthy."
Once she had set up her usual security measures (plus an extra one in the form of a Datura gas bomb inside the closet now that the Stealth Suit was inside of it), the Courier left her apartment, and took to the streets in search of the Dear Friend's Axe tavern.
Out of habit, and since it seemed to be just as acceptable a behavior here as it was in the Mojave, the Courier had still brought some weapons with her, just in case trouble ended up coming her way. Nothing too major, granted, but the weight of Big Boomer, Lil' Devil, her personal Ripper and Blood-Nap holstered across her body served as enough to comfort her paranoia.
She also had the weight of all her usual ammunition, explosives, chems and miscellaneous belongings on her, but the Courier was also making her vested best to not think too hard on
how such a thing could be happening considering her Elite Riot Gear armor, and thus the Big MT's Trench Coat of Infinite Capacity!, had been left behind in her home. The less she thought about the SCIENCE! behind such a thing, the less chances of it to stop working.
…
Again.
This, in turn, left the Mojave native free to watch the people passing her by or that she herself passed by, and take in the Frontier Town night life she had yet to experience. And with no pun intended, compared to New Vegas, the difference was truly night and day.
Even after the Brotherhood had annexed the Mojave, they had known enough to at least leave Freeside and New Vegas mostly alone, with only the usual reconstruction and supply convoys to the area. As a result, the usual "activities" had mostly stayed the same: ladies with little to no clothing calling for customers to whatever establishment they worked for, folks using chems for fun or pleasure, and bars and casinos aplenty for the locals or visitors. Sure, things looked a lot cleaner, especially with the Followers and Kings now having proper supplies to see to everyone's needs, but this only meant that the contrast became stronger.
Here, however, everything was a lot more wholesome. Maybe it was the lack of electricity that made everyone mostly retire to their homes come nightfall, or the more rural locale of the town compared to Vegas, but nevertheless the people she saw through her walk were doing far more mundane things. A bar or restaurant here and there had some customers enjoying food and drinks while sitting around tables set up on the outside to enjoy the pleasantly warm night, but otherwise none of the more casual the Courier had grown accustomed to could be seen.
For those without any official business, they seemed content to stand or walk around chatting with friends, or in the case of some adventurers she caught sight of, comrades and companions. The latter was further divided into three separate groups: those who were still on duty, had just returned from a mission of sorts, or were off the clock entirely. The Courier could even easily tell which was which, solely by if they were still wearing armor (or, in the case of the magically-inclined ones, robes), or if they were dressed with more casual civilian clothing, and even then, just like herself these adventurers still saw fit to carry with them a weapon for self-defense.
And just as always, the sheer variety in the appearance of the people put the Wasteland to shame: hair colors, choice of clothes and armors, even the number of races was far more varied, and drew the Courier's gaze all over the place. In turn, those who took note of her passing greeted her in some way, some with more enthusiasm than others, but all with equal levels of politeness. She even spotted a few children waving to some of the returning adventurers, or pointing excitedly to those in civilian clothing that they recognized.
It reminded her of the times she had traveled alongside some Brotherhood patrols after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, or the Battle of the Divide: children, watching the Knights and Paladins pass by in awe, waving and calling out to them. Knight Alberta had even gotten a drawing from a little girl, depicting their unit protecting Novac from Tunnelers.
To the day the Courier had left the Mojave, it still hung proudly on the wall of the dorm of Alberta's unit.
Perhaps, in time, and with enough deeds to her name, her legend in this world would grow to match the one she had in the Mojave and beyond.
But for now, the anonymity served her just fine. Though perhaps, judging by some of the people who pointed to her (or, more specifically, to her
many visible scars that littered her body), this didn't seem like it would last
that long.
For a few more minutes, the Courier continued to walk the streets of Frontier Town, only stopping once or twice to get proper directions, until finally, she came across the Dear Friend's Axe tavern. To no surprise, the tavern had just as rustic a construction as every other building in town, with the only thing differentiating it from residences or other shops being the abundance of windows at the ground level, the sign hanging from over the door, depicting an axe over a metal tankard, and the raucous sounds of celebration coming from within it.
And no matter what others said, the smell of fresh food and booze wafting through the air definitely didn't serve to quicken the Courier's steps, no sir.
Once she weaved her way around the small throng of people leaving the tavern, the Courier pushed through the tavern's door, and immediately found herself besieged by a wild array of smells, sights and sounds, all new to her.
The tavern's interior wasn't extravagant by any means. Rather, it was precisely
because it had such a rustic interior that the place was made so interesting, because it allowed the Courier to focus on the
people inside of it. And while most of them were humans, or close enough in appearance to not really matter, the sight of a half-human, half-horse waitress galloping between tables delivering drink and food to customers like it was the most normal thing in the world was definitely a wholly new experience to the Mojave native.
"Hey, Courier, over here!"
Thankfully, the sound of a familiar voice rising over the cacophonous din of the tavern was enough to draw the Courier's attention to one of the corners of the ground floor. And to no surprise, she saw the party sitting around a fairly wide table, all of them now dressed with civilian clothing rather than armor, and with Warrior-Priest waving animatedly at her. With a quick wave back, the Courier made a beeline towards the table, and sat herself at the chair that was offered to her. "Sorry I'm late, it took a while to find good clothes," she said with a small huff, as she took off her desperado hat and set it onto one of the chair's ears.
"Eh, it's fine, we didn't get here that long ago," replied Warrior-Priest in turn, waving one hand dismissively in the air, only to immediately point to the Courier. "Plus, glad to see another lady who ain't shy about her scars."
When she followed the valkyrie's finger, the Mojave native realized that, indeed, a lot of her scars were now in plain sight. Not all of them, of course, since she still had her shirts and pants on, but considering how dotted with old injuries her arms already were, it made clear that the rest of her body would look the same.
Especially since the lack of her usual neckguard meant that the surgical scar looping around her neck and descending past her sternum was quite visible.
Not to mention the circular spots marking Benny's two parting gifts to her.
"Oh my…" muttered Acolyte in surprise, the young girl holding a hand up to her mouth as she took in the tapestry of wounds visible on the Courier's body, while beside her, Lizard Fighter barked out a laugh.
"I see your claims of experience weren't unfounded!" said the demihuman cheerfully, his tail even slapping against the floor in emphasis. "None of us took you as a liar, of course, but to see the proof is certainly something else."
Before any of them could continue with further comments, however, a cough drew the attention of the three adventurers to their last companion, who was giving them an unimpressed stare. "Before we again end up flooding our new friend with questions," said Dark Elf flatly, before he raised a small stack of papers into view. "How about we order our meals?"
His question, in turn, prompted a round of laughs from the table's other occupants. Even the Courier found a chuckle escaping her lips, before she took one of the offered papers, and scanned its contents. It was a simplistic menu, admittedly, with the options likely being tied to whatever the tavern had available on hand, but to the Courier, it was enough. It'd definitely be a lot fresher than the meals she used to have back during her travels through the Wastelands, at least.
"Leave it to our scout to put us back on track," snarked Warrior-Priest with a grin, even going as far as bumping her elbow against the elf's ribs, before she refocused her attention on the Courier. "But I'm still getting those answers out of you, ya hear? Cause the story behind those is bound to be good!"
"Depends on how fun you think me getting my ass kicked is," replied the Mojave native with a smile.
And as she waved the half-horse waitress over to their table, her order already set in mind, the Courier realized that for the first time in a long while… things would be just fine.
-O-
Three days later…
She wasn't there.
No matter where Priestess looked inside the Guild's reception area, there was no sign of the Courier being there. She had thought to ask someone else if maybe they had seen the woman around, but the Guild workers were all busy, and she didn't quite know the adventurers well enough to go speak to them. Instead, she simply stood near the door, watching the passing faces in the hope of spotting the coated, masked woman at some point.
It was something she had done for a good while now for the last few days, and by this point, Priestess was considering it a lost cause.
Not that she had anything truly urgent to ask the Courier about, but still, the questions remained regardless: where had she come from, where had she found all of that strange gear she was carrying around, what kind of places she might have visited or adventures she had gone through…
Also, what had been that book she had heard about the Courier reading from? It sounded like one of the old holy texts the abbesses of the Earth Mother would read to her and the other acolytes at the temple, but she didn't recognize the cross symbol she had overheard her fellow Acolyte comment being on the cover. It certainly didn't sound like any of the symbols used to represent the gods she knew about, but it didn't seem like a symbol of Chaos, either. Strangely, it made Priestess feel… warm, somehow, like how she herself felt when utilizing her miracles–
"Something wrong?"
The sudden call out to her, and so close to boot, made the girl eep softly in surprise, almost dropping her staff in the process before she regained her composure. And of course, to
almost no surprise, it was Goblin Slayer that had spoken, having approached her at some point while she was fussing over her current problem.
Huffing out a long sigh, Priestess fully turned to the armored adventurer and gave him as ferocious a stink eye as she could (which, considering her entire appearance, was not that ferocious, but the young girl did not need to know that). "Goblin Slayer, you can't just sneak up on people like that!"
"I did not sneak close," replied the armored warrior in turn, with the usual calm tone she had slowly gotten used to. "I just walked up to you."
"You were too quiet, though!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes!"
"I see…"
The fact she just
knew Goblin Slayer hadn't meant to outright sneak up on her was not lost to Priestess, but it only made the situation even more exasperating for her.
Then again, she
did expect something like this when she decided to fully partner up with him.
"Are you waiting for someone?" continued the silver rank, seemingly (and very likely) unbothered by the situation, as he glanced around the reception area.
"No, I'm… actually
looking for someone," she replied in turn, giving one last glance around the room before refocusing on Goblin Slayer, an idea quickly coming to mind over her predicament. "Have you… seen the Courier around?"
She knew that Goblin Slayer wasn't the most…
attentive of persons when it came to things not related to goblins, but perhaps–
"No, I haven't."
Of course…
"Have you tried asking one of the Guild workers?" continued Goblin Slayer, glancing over to the workers' desk. It seemed the movement had somewhat slowed down, but there were still adventurers either accepting new quests or delivering reports for finished ones.
"I did, but they were busy, so I didn't want to interrupt," replied Priestess in turn. She meant to continue her train of thought, but before she could, the young girl saw Goblin Slayer make his way to the reception desk with his usual straightforward gait, making a beeline directly to one of the Guild attendants just as she had finished assigning another party to the quest they had chosen. Realizing that this was bound to become yet another one "Goblin Slayer moment", Priestess hurried after him, making sure to not bump against anyone as she tried to keep pace with her partner. Thankfully, she managed to reach him just as he stopped in front of the desk, mercifully not cutting off anyone outright, but still just in time to stop another party from moving to the free space to finally have their turn.
"I have a question to make," said Goblin Slayer succinctly, placing one hand on the desk as he seemed accustomed to do, and also drawing a surprised gasp from the attendant that had found herself the focus of his attention.
"Oh, mister Goblin Slayer! Yes, umm… how can I help you?" asked the Guild worker in turn, her gaze switching briefly from the armored adventurer to Priestess, before returning to him once more. "I-Is it about goblin quests?"
"Not yet."
"Yes, umm… have you seen the Courier recently?" asked Priestess somewhat hesitantly. "I wanted to talk to her. Is she still in town, or did she… leave for a quest?"
"Umm… let me check…"
With only the slightest amount of urgency, the attendant took to checking through the drawers of her desk, quickly riffling through what was likely several quest forms in search for an answer, possibly because the poor woman was now put under Goblin Slayer's usual faceless gaze, and wanted to avoid it as soon as possible.
A fair wish, Priestess thought, since apparently the only person who could withstand it in full was that one Guild attendant who always seemed happy to see him.
For a few moments, the attendant continued to search through the papers, until finally she pulled one form out of the drawer and held it up for herself to read. "Here we are! Yes, she took a quest two days ago. It was posted by a village chief just over a week ago, but it hadn't been taken yet."
"Oh, I see…" was Priestess less-than-enthused reply, the young girl looking down somewhat morosely.
"What kind of quest was it?" asked Goblin Slayer in turn, the question in turn earning a thoughtful hum from the attendant as she read over the quest form.
"Let's see…"
-O-
Meanwhile, far away, at another village in the Frontier…
Once the carriage had stopped, the Courier hopped from the back, and threw a few silver coins at the driver as she walked past him towards the village's main building.
It was a larger place than the one she had come upon while dealing with the creatures at the old tree fortress, but not as large as Frontier Town by any means. All in all, it struck a good middle ground, with houses being separated by swathes of green, large plantations filled with enough crops to make an NCR farming community jealous, and a barn or two where she could see cattle inside or around the building. They even had a water wheel built next to the river that ran around the village, and she could see some simple stone fences built around the outskirts, most likely to keep animals coming from the forests to the west, or down from the mountains to the south of it. And all around, she could see the villagers walking about, going through their daily tasks, or simply killing what free time they seemed to have.
In short, it was a quaint, friendly looking place, one the Courier could perhaps see herself retiring to someday, once she grew old and wrinkled enough for it.
Sadly, she was still too young and full of life to want to settle down. Not while there were still troubles to solve. So, with one last check of her Pip-Boy to confirm her quest objective, the Courier took off towards the nav-point marked to her, already preparing herself for what was to come.
"Here it is!"
GREEN GREEN GRASS OF HOME
"It was a goblin-hunting quest."
- Wipe out the goblins harassing the village
~O~
Oop, here we go, glad this definitely took no time at all to make, no sir!
…
It ain't funny, I'm sorry.
Truth be told, I actually had some plans to have the Courier share some stories with the Doomed Party (sorry, that's the name the wiki and other medias give to them) during their celebration dinner, but after a while I realized it didn't gel well, plus I couldn't really find the drive to actually write a scene like that. So instead, I went for a shorter wind-down chapter, just a few moments of character before we go off on our next adventure.
Surprise, it's a goblin quest! And this time, she's completely alone.
Yeah, again, I thought about maybe having GS and the Courier tag along for a goblin-hunting quest, but then I realized it would make for a more interesting scenario if she was by herself, and had to learn on the fly about how GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWBLIIIIIIIIINS do their thing when inside their own nest.
After this quest, which gods willing I'll wrap up in a single chapter, even if it ends up big, I think I'll do another wind-down chapter, then probably go straight to the arrival of the other future party members and the subsequent Ogre quest. I can't see any way to organically stretch out things any further, plus if I keep stalling too much, I'll never get there…
Still, if you guys DO wanna see at least one more quest before we go after The Plot, lemme know in the comments/reviews.
For now, I can FINALLY go back to Man from the Moon, and continue the adventures of my poor traumatized Lunarian self (insert).
Oda has been feeding me absolute gold with his latest chapters, you better believe I'll make diamonds out of it. And since I now found a new job that is a lot easier on me in terms of free time and workload, I might be able to write more frequently. Hopefully.
We'll see.
Also, I got another art piece of the Courier cooking, will post it once it's colored.
See ya next time, fellas!
