Get Rid of That Pesky Blockade! (Job/Solo)

 A naked, burning sun. Fluffy, white clouds across a beautiful cerulean sky. It was a beautiful day that couldn't be recreated by even the most skilled painters and artists. The way the chilled winds danced across the skin and tickled one's nose, the crisp smell of dead leaves and the way they'd crunch and shred under the heel, the warm feeling of sunlight shining through closed eyes like it would through white linen sheets. It was a warm, light feeling that took your breath away and stole your undivided attention from all the senses, a stimulus that could only ever be found in nature. It was the one thing any wanderer appreciated and held so dearly to them.

Proud, tall mountains that bristled the planet's soil with both fluffy snow and luscious greenery, home to both the tranquil and the dangerous. Raging seas that swallowed a man's boat if it were to so much as tremble, but also bore the millions of finned beauties that would dare venture into the unknown with such confidence. Both land and sea having such beautiful and equally terrifying qualities, but qualities only the wanderer's eye could truly see and behold. Let the feet press against fresh and wet grass, let the chest bask in the natural sunshine, let the soul feed off of the world's treasures. All such feelings did Shakil hold dear to him and remember so fondly, which made his new life in the city all the more unbearable.

It wasn't so much terrible as it was unfamiliar, despite having been forced into these kinds of situations before. For several hundred years at a time would the brown skinned man truly slumber, and would awake to all sorts of new things. But although times would change, there were simply some things that would always remain the same for him.

There was a room where only five windows existed, along with several bookshelves submerged in scrolls and documents in the most organized, tidy fashion possible, and a desk with a leather chair and a wooden one would stand idly, opposite of each other. The roar of a train's horn and the smoke it would exhale so rapidly disappeared into the atmosphere, but no person would dare open the room windows and let it in. In the seats of the cluttered space sat two men, one of caramel skin, chocolate locks, and sharp, golden eyes and the other of short, black hair, eyes of the same color, and round, seemingly rimless glasses pushed tightly against his face. The man had been much older, it seemed, and wore a business suit while the brown skinned one would wear his foreign fashion, a white, torn cloak with loose, black pants and adorned in an assortment of precious gems and gold.

Shakil crossed both arms across his chest along with one leg over the other, eyes droopy and lips indifferent. His weary expression was as weary as the room they were in, but the man before him remained tense and leaned over his desk, hands intertwined, as if plotting something.

"Mister Shakil, you are a qualified mage, are you not?" the man questioned with a low, gruff voice.

Shakil would yawn and hover his hand over his open mouth, "Indeed, I am. Are you troubled by the thought of a normal man committing to this? What has you so shook? Speak of it." he insisted, a smirk cracking his lips.

The man would frown, a sigh escaping his lips, "No, it's nothing. Let us proceed with the details of the mission, alright? Truth be told, we've been having some trouble by these pair of annoying whipper-snappers lately, a goblin and a vulcan who keep terrorizing and being a general nuisance on our train tracks. But now they just went ahead and blocked the tracks with a great, old tree! They say we give 'em a hundred pies and a hundred tubs of sherbet or they'll never move the tree! Those rascals are holding up the trains and closed our station! Could you go over there and teach 'em a lesson, so we can get things moving again?" he urged, voice trembling and weak.

WC: 696

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

Shakil would hold his jaw in the palm of his right hand, elbows resting on the arms of the wooden seat and weary eyes now filled with delight. "Truly a conundrum you have before you! My humblest sympathies, but a man's work doesn't go without reward. What treasures will you present to me in exchange for this labor?" he would query, shifting his unoccupied hand to armrest, fingers tapping patiently.

The older man glared down at his worn down desk, another sigh slipping past dry and cracked lips, "Fifteen hundred jewels and no more! That's more than enough for your services, isn't it?
So will you do it or not? I don't have time for this! I'm running a business!" the man droned, droopy eyes rolling back to fix on Shakil's face.

The caramel skinned mage would hum pleasantly, hands leaving the armrests and skin to meet in the middle, hands entwined with one another, another smirk stretching his face, "You have an honest man's tongue, Albert. I applaud you for your nerve to say such things despite you being the one asking me for help. Truly fantastic, I say!" he would nod, "Yes, I shall offer you my services for that pay. Now tell me, where am I needed at this moment?"

WC: 910

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

Albert's frown would remain frozen to his dry lips, peering outside of the window just across from them, "Those troublemakers should be here in no more than an hour from now. They always pop around this time of day. You must imagine how terrible they've been if we can make a schedule for their arrival, can't you? he grumbled, old, worn fingers pointing outside, "I must be doing paperwork right now, so you can go wait by the tracks.
There aren't any trains running today for this purpose, so don't be afraid to step on the tracks. Come back when everything's resolved, mage." Albert would finish, Shakil saying nothing and only responding with a humble nod. The caramel skinned man stood from his seat and would make way out of the building.

The building was dull, built from stone that was cracked and dusty. It was an old station, much like the town, and was home to a lot of senior citizens or young men and women with nowhere else to go. The air smelled of oil and smoke while the station building was quiet, the only noise being receptionists making announcement on the speakers or the clicking of heels and loafers against the wood and stone floorboards. There was little color and little noise, but still a cozy, old station.

Shakil's hickory, leather sandals tapped against the floorboards leading to the large, wooden doors, exiting the building and into the open train station. The tracks were silent, not one train roaring its horn in the distance and the familiar rumble of their wheels against them. No gears turned, no familiar puff of smoke disappeared into the atmosphere, no nothing. An unsettling idleness washed over Clover Town's train station.

With his unusual staff in hand, Shakil promptly sat in the middle of the tracks in wait of the mischievous troublemakers. Several minutes had passed, and the glaring rays of sunshine burned his skin through the cerulean skies, but no chilly winds or blanket of clouds to soothe his heat. It was a curse of a sunny day. Despite the wait, if Albert's words were true, then the vulcan and goblin would make haste to arrive soon. Shakil's eyes would close, resting until their arrival.

Thump! Thump!

Two thuds sent vibrations through the metal tracks, bringing Shakil to a quick awakening. Sharp, golden hues would fix on the expected guests, hideous, ugly grins stretching from ear to ear on their mouths. The caramel skinned mage loosely hugged his staff, a simper cracking his lips.

"Where're our pies?! Our sherbet?! Give it to us now or we'll tear down the whole station!" barked the vulcan.

"Right, right!" the goblin added.

Shakil would remain seated, two hands extending outwards, fingers making a fanning motion, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, let us calm ourselves. Tell me more about this sherbet. What is that? And the pies? What kind?" he would question with the most genuine curiosity. What sherbet was and why they wanted it was a true question for the mage, and the kind of pies they were interested in simply piqued his curiosity.

"Sherbet is only the most delicious, fruity ice flakes you can get around town! And apple pies!
Only apple!" the vulcan was quick to open his mouth again, the goblin even quicker to agree with him.

Shakil would nod, "That does sound quite tasty. If I weren't being paid for this, I'd join you in your quest for pies and sherbet, gentlemen. But let us discuss a compromise, yes?" he began to stand, raising himself with his unique staff, "I am a wanderer. I have seen a great many things, and delicacies just as great have touched my tongue. Permit me to tell my stories of this fine dining and I guarantee you'll be satisfied." he would tap the temples of his head.

WC: 1,551

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

The vulcan and goblin both looked at each other with cautious, bewildered eyes. They closed in on each other, exchanging whispers and curious looks, giving the occasional nod and glance to the idle, seated wanderer who waited patiently for their answer. After a few huffs and gruffs, the pair had returned from their state of secrecy with puffed chests and questionable frowns.

"Allllright, mister! Tell us a few things about what you've eaten!" the vulcan demanded, arms crossing over its elevated chest, the goblin quickly mimicking him with the same proud posture, followed by a few nods.

"Right, right!" the goblin added.

Shakil stroked his jawline with his unoccupied hand, eyes rolling about in thought, "Why, gentlemen, many dishes my tongue has touched! This is by far the most challenging of trials you have presented me thus far. Allow me a moment of thought, will you not?" he requested, proceeding to ponder the question, regardless of whether he was granted the consent or not.

The vulcan began to tap its foot impatiently, irritation overwhelming the beast and morphing its countenance into that of a frustrated scowl, ears twitching and orbs full of irritation, the goblin instantly mimicking the same expression. "Hurry it up! We don't have all day!" the vulcan barked.

"Yeah, we don't!" as expected, the goblin added.

Shakil perked up in the very moment the goblin had finished his addition, a smile cracking his lips and eyes raising to the sky, as if recalling a nostalgic memory, "Why, I recall this exquisite restaurant residing in the beautiful Midi that blessed me with a steak so raw and juicy that I swore it was still running in the fields. In fine portions surrounding it were grilled and boiled greens and fried tomatoes, sprinkled with salt and pepper. But wait, gentlemen, although this dish seems that of a commoner's, you fail to look deeper into the details of the dish!" Shakil insisted, opening his arms and smirking, "The meat had come from only the finest, most beautiful cows Midi could offer, fat and tender from the womb! The greens harvested when they were the color that of jades, from only the richest and most recognized farmers from all over the continent! Even the salt and pepper were of higher status that we all could achieve! Yes, even the salt and pepper, my gentlemen! Mined from the most beautiful mountains, famous for their springs and wildlife!" the wanderer laughed, cheeks that of roses in the midst of all the exciting memories, the vulcan and goblin reciprocating the same expression of bliss.

The vulcan and goblin drooled almost comically, eyes so white that they glistened in the sunlight and looked as if there was a twinkle of childlike wonder and raw, unadulterated desire within them. They could not utter words, but an assortment of moans and slurping noises had rolled off their hanging tongues easily.

Shakil's arms would descend back to his lap, and smirk becoming toothy, "How about it, boys? Has my tongue proven worthy of speaking of delicacies beyond what it has touched? Of your sherbet and apple pies you so fondly praise?" he asked.

WC: 1,076

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS