- Spoiler:
- Job Title: Retrieving the Package
Rank: B Rank
Player Requirements: 1B/2C Ranks
Job Requirements: 8,000 Words
Job Location: Unknwon Lands
Job Description:
In a town located somewhere in Fiore, a group of people with cat ears and tails naturally growing from them have come across an issue where they're running low on cooking supplies and have requested some be brought to them. That was a month ago and their shipment hasn't arrived yet... While traveling the same path that the shipment was supposed to be on, you'll be attacked by the same bandits who stole the shipment (and killed the delivery boy/girl). After dealing with them the bandits are found to not have the package, but a map on one of them showes where their camp is. Wipe out their camp and bring the shipment to the cat people for your reward.
Enemies:
Weak: Novice Bandit
Fresh meat never sucked so much.
Normal: Bandit
Your average bandit with average weapon skills, and no magic.
Strong: Veteran Bandit
A Bandit whose been doing their job for a while and has mastered their weapons. They have great fighting ability and a little magic.
Boss: Bandit Ace
One of the strongest members of the bandit group that are able to command the others to do things. They know better magic than the veterans, but it's nothing to write home about by guild mage standards. Needless to say, they're really good at fighting with weapons.
Reward:
• 5k Per Boss (Cap 5)
• 1x Legendary Armor
• A Neko Maid/Butler outfit (normal clothes)
-- credit to ○Kaori
In this day and age, Mythal Ragnos had become much more than he – or anyone – ever thought he would become. But there was a time, not that long ago, where he was just a traveling vagabond, orphaned due to tragedy and secluded due to pain. Turning the clock back some twelve years, the God Slayer wasn’t much more than a teenager…
It was nighttime. The moon was hidden by several dark clouds as thick as a brick wall. Only thin, weak streams of light broke past the edges of the plumes, illuminating small areas of the land below. The roads didn’t have much light, save for the lanterns and magical creations that the drivers themselves could provide. Anyone walking would do well to either set up camp deep in the wooded area or turn back around and find a tavern. This road was not meant for strangers to travel at night, especially on such a dark evening where one could barely see a foot in front of them. It was the perfect time to catch travelers and wagons by surprise and no doubt, many had already fallen victim to the bandits who prowled the area.
One particular band of brigands was the White Hood Bandits, who had recently begun to gain notoriety on the border of Fiore and Bosco. There was an expanse of roads that were used by merchants as a quick route between the two kingdoms but the routes had been discovered by several bands of thieves. Slowly they began to bond together until they became the White Hood, now stronger by the sheer number of their members. Several traders had opted against taking this route due to the danger but then again, several of them still preferred the hastiness of the roads over the safety of the drivers.
One such unfortunate wagon had been cut off and robbed only a few hours prior, with its sole occupant killed for attempting to fight back. The wagon itself had been pushed up into several bushes to mask it from any other prying eyes, now no more than a means of creating a barricade in the road. The body had been ditched and the crew that had done the deed had retreated back into their hiding spots, with the two leaders perched up in the trees. A thin, scraggly man along with a portly, short man rested against the branches, looking out over the area through the narrow eye slits in their hoods.
“Not much going on tonight,” the taller one said with a sigh, leaning on his hand.
“We’re gonna have to find a new spot before long. This place is nearly dried up,” the portly one said with a nod, carving into a small piece of wood with his knife. “Boss ain’t gonna like it.”
“He doesn’t have to like it for it to be true. The merchants are starting to learn. I’m surprised we got even one major haul tonight. All this spot is good for is grabbing idiots coming in from Bosco who don’t know better,” the taller one reached up under his hood and scratched his jawline. “Maybe he’ll go through with his other plan.”
The other bandit stopped witling “What other plan?”
“He wanted to spread us out, you know? Scout other places to set up shop so we could cover more ground and so if the Knights ever come sniffing around, we can get away easier. Basically make us a criminal empire. He used to be a business man, y’know?”
The large man snorted. “Business man? He was legit?”
The thin man nodded. “You got it. Ended up losing his business and went broke. Lost everything. So he turned to our life. Turned out he had some skill there too – probably more.”
“Crazy how life is, huh?” As he finished speaking, his eyes narrowed. He had glanced down the road and thought he saw something. He activated his magic, which gave him enhanced vision at night. And sure enough; he could see a figure making its way down the road, heading right towards them. A humanoid by the look of it. “Looks like we got a straggler,” he informed the other bandit. He reached up and tapped the trunk of the tree they were in with the back of his knife, creating a soft popping noise. It was the alert for the other bandits that another victim was coming.
They were dead quiet as the figure made its way under the canopy of branches and leaves where they were stowed. Just before it was about to pass through, the cart came rolling down out of its hiding place, slamming to a skid right in the middle of the road. The figure jumped back a step as the wooden frame blocked his way forward. Lanterns sparked to life all around the area as the bandits swarmed in from all sides, surrounding the poor soul.
The thin and large man hopped down out of the trees, slowly making their way through the group of brigands. “Sorry there, buddy, but you’ve found yourself in our territory. And we don’t take kindly to free roamers,” the thin one said, idly patting the back of his sword against his shoulder.
“So unless you got something really valuable to tell us, you might want to start praying to your god for sanctuary,” the large one said with a chortle.
The man that had been surrounded casually turned towards the two that had started talking to him, idly glancing between the tall and short. He was a young man, nineteen years of age and had just started to show some signs of adulthood. There was darkening on his cheeks and chin from where hair threatened to peek out but it only barely showed color. His hair was a scraggly mess that hung in front of his face and all around the bulb of his head, unkempt and medium length. Crimson gems clung to the tops of his eyes almost in nonchalance as he took in the predicament he had walked into. His body was as thin as it was long, hidden behind the dark blue jacket he wore and the black undershirt beneath that.
The teenage Mythal sighed as he slowly dropped the pack on his shoulder to the ground. “Listen, I’m gonna only say this once,” he said softly, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Get lost before this gets messy. I’ve been walkin’ all day and the last thing I need is a bunch of wanna-be thieves tryin’ to hold me up over a bedroll and some dry bread.”
A ripple of laughter echoed throughout the bandits quietly as they glanced at one another. The thin leader chuckled the loudest. “Bold words there, fellow but words don’t mean much in these parts. But you’re good for a laugh so how about only half of us jump in and tear you to shreds?” As if queued for the response, four of the bandits took step forward, each one sporting a different kind of weapon.
Mythal glanced at them and then back to the leader. “Can’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he offered with a simply shrug before he ripped his right hand out from his pocket. It dove into his jacket and brought out a long, extremely foreign blade. The blade itself was nearly a foot long, with undulating curves that came to sharp points both on the front and back. The guard folded down over the handle with long talons, each one as sharp as the weapon itself. A pointed pommel lay resting on the butt of the blade, completing the deadly ensemble. As soon as it was freed from the confines of his jacket, the blade lit up and electricity began to crackle and spark all around it. Long, jagged bolts erupted out further, thrusting into several of the bandits around him and forcing them to the ground. Each one of them jerked and shook as the magical lightning played fiddle with their nervous system.
Despite three of the men going down instantly upon unsheathing, Mythal stood tall and unguarded, the crackling weapon resting near his side. “Last chance. Then I get serious.”
The thin bandit looked around at the three that had been struck down, his eyes wide. This punk had a magical weapon! With a snarl he thrust his sword forward at Mythal, screeching “Get him!”
It seemed Mythal wasn’t going to be intimidating any of these guys away. He bent into a crouch and brought the dagger up in time to block the first sword as it swung in towards him, the blade of his weapon shooting electricity into the metal blade and down into the bandit’s hand. The teenager curled around the stunned man and kicked him in the rear, sending him staggering forward and into the blades of the other weapons that had been coming in towards Mythal. Four of the bandits nearly fell back as the newly skewered man coughed up blood and went limp on them, forcing them backwards.
Meanwhile Mythal turned his attention to the closest bandit, leaping in on him. He had a warhammer, something that would not be easily parried by the teenager’s knife. Mythal glanced up at him as he swung the hammer up in preparation to crush the teenager underneath it. He waited until the last possible moment to leap under the bandit’s arm, barely dodging the heavy head of the hammer. Mythal came out from the roll and sliced at the man’s back, releasing another bolt of electricity right into his core. The bandit screeched and froze up as his body suffered the pangs of the magical attack.
The teenage God Slayer let out a breath, already feeling wear on his body. His survival skills and instincts were the only true training he had when it came to combat, having only relied on his limited ability to use a knife. There was his ‘trump’ card per se but that was something he couldn’t just activate of his own free will. If he got pushed back enough in this fight, there was a chance it would come out but that was neither here nor there at the moment. Instead the street rat dodged a few slashes from two swords before he could an opening, swinging the dagger inwards towards two more of the bandits and carving open their chests. Electricity was crackling so loudly from all the injured men around him that it was like the droning in night bugs. His focus was lost for a moment and a sword swung in towards him. He managed to get his knife up in time but the size difference sent Mythal flying back into the road. It also managed to cut a line over his forehead, fresh blood pooling into the opening and running down the side of his head.
The thin bandit had made his move and, now that he had Mythal on the defensive, he charged forward. Instincts roared in the teenager’s ears as he fell back several steps, avoiding the stabs and slashes meant to cleave and impale. He managed to land some palpable stabs with the pommel of the dagger but the wounds seemed to only egg the man on. It wasn’t until Mythal found himself pinned against a tree that he managed to duck under a swing, embedding the sword into the trunk. The teenager pushed off from the tree and shoulder blocked man to the ground, rolling off of him and spinning around to stab the blade down into his chest. That was a hit strong enough to take the fight out of the thin bandit.
The sound of something moving behind him forced Mythal to extract the dagger out from the previously impaled bandit and toss it on a whim as he spun. The fat bandit wasn’t expecting a thrown weapon to come flying at him and could do nothing to prevent it from flying into his neck. His own dagger fell to the forest floor as he reached up to his impaled trachea, blood already staining the bottom of his hood. A few gurgles escaped his mouth before he toppled backwards, his body unwilling to keep standing as it perished.
Mythal sighed as he feel back onto his hands, breathing heavily as he inhaled air back into his lungs. It’d been a few months since he had lost gotten into a fight and frankly, it was exhausting. If it had happened earlier in the day, he may not have done so well. The damn sun had a fantastic way of draining him of his energy along with blinding him. But at the same time, he wasn’t exactly teeming with energy after having walked several miles. “Fuckin’ bandits,” he breathed out as he finally got himself to his feet and walked over to the fat bandit. He pulled the knife free of his neck and cleaned it off on the bandit’s shirt, not wanting the stench or stain of blood on him anymore than it already was. He reached up and felt the thin river of blood that had trailed down the side of his face, groaning in annoyance.
The one benefit was the loot. Bandits like this were always trying to get the jump on people and steal their stuff. That meant that they probably had some pretty good stash that Mythal could take back. He looted through each one of the bodies carefully, finding the odd trinket here and there but nothing really of substance. But then he got to the thin bandit and within one of his pockets was a hand drawn map. It was crude and a bit beleaguered from constantly being unfolded and folded but still decipherable. And a large black circle seemed to indicate a basecamp. “And where there’s a basecamp, there’s stolen goods.” Mythal muttered softly as he noted where the camp seemed to be.
He looked around at the group of bandits, all lying on the ground in differing states of defeat. They seemed to be the whole force but were there others? Was it worth the aggravation of going all the way there to discover more of the same? He sighed as he walked over to his pack, picking it up and feeling just how light it was. He’d been low on food for several days now, barely scraping by with what he’d bought over a week ago. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed whatever he could get. With another sigh, he reached down and grabbed the torch of the closest bandit, taking a moment to go around and douse the rest of them. He didn’t need the assistance of the light but maybe if he came with the torch, the bandits would think twice about attacking him at first.
Or they would just kill him on the spot. At this point, he wasn’t holding his breath for either option.
It was nighttime. The moon was hidden by several dark clouds as thick as a brick wall. Only thin, weak streams of light broke past the edges of the plumes, illuminating small areas of the land below. The roads didn’t have much light, save for the lanterns and magical creations that the drivers themselves could provide. Anyone walking would do well to either set up camp deep in the wooded area or turn back around and find a tavern. This road was not meant for strangers to travel at night, especially on such a dark evening where one could barely see a foot in front of them. It was the perfect time to catch travelers and wagons by surprise and no doubt, many had already fallen victim to the bandits who prowled the area.
One particular band of brigands was the White Hood Bandits, who had recently begun to gain notoriety on the border of Fiore and Bosco. There was an expanse of roads that were used by merchants as a quick route between the two kingdoms but the routes had been discovered by several bands of thieves. Slowly they began to bond together until they became the White Hood, now stronger by the sheer number of their members. Several traders had opted against taking this route due to the danger but then again, several of them still preferred the hastiness of the roads over the safety of the drivers.
One such unfortunate wagon had been cut off and robbed only a few hours prior, with its sole occupant killed for attempting to fight back. The wagon itself had been pushed up into several bushes to mask it from any other prying eyes, now no more than a means of creating a barricade in the road. The body had been ditched and the crew that had done the deed had retreated back into their hiding spots, with the two leaders perched up in the trees. A thin, scraggly man along with a portly, short man rested against the branches, looking out over the area through the narrow eye slits in their hoods.
“Not much going on tonight,” the taller one said with a sigh, leaning on his hand.
“We’re gonna have to find a new spot before long. This place is nearly dried up,” the portly one said with a nod, carving into a small piece of wood with his knife. “Boss ain’t gonna like it.”
“He doesn’t have to like it for it to be true. The merchants are starting to learn. I’m surprised we got even one major haul tonight. All this spot is good for is grabbing idiots coming in from Bosco who don’t know better,” the taller one reached up under his hood and scratched his jawline. “Maybe he’ll go through with his other plan.”
The other bandit stopped witling “What other plan?”
“He wanted to spread us out, you know? Scout other places to set up shop so we could cover more ground and so if the Knights ever come sniffing around, we can get away easier. Basically make us a criminal empire. He used to be a business man, y’know?”
The large man snorted. “Business man? He was legit?”
The thin man nodded. “You got it. Ended up losing his business and went broke. Lost everything. So he turned to our life. Turned out he had some skill there too – probably more.”
“Crazy how life is, huh?” As he finished speaking, his eyes narrowed. He had glanced down the road and thought he saw something. He activated his magic, which gave him enhanced vision at night. And sure enough; he could see a figure making its way down the road, heading right towards them. A humanoid by the look of it. “Looks like we got a straggler,” he informed the other bandit. He reached up and tapped the trunk of the tree they were in with the back of his knife, creating a soft popping noise. It was the alert for the other bandits that another victim was coming.
They were dead quiet as the figure made its way under the canopy of branches and leaves where they were stowed. Just before it was about to pass through, the cart came rolling down out of its hiding place, slamming to a skid right in the middle of the road. The figure jumped back a step as the wooden frame blocked his way forward. Lanterns sparked to life all around the area as the bandits swarmed in from all sides, surrounding the poor soul.
The thin and large man hopped down out of the trees, slowly making their way through the group of brigands. “Sorry there, buddy, but you’ve found yourself in our territory. And we don’t take kindly to free roamers,” the thin one said, idly patting the back of his sword against his shoulder.
“So unless you got something really valuable to tell us, you might want to start praying to your god for sanctuary,” the large one said with a chortle.
The man that had been surrounded casually turned towards the two that had started talking to him, idly glancing between the tall and short. He was a young man, nineteen years of age and had just started to show some signs of adulthood. There was darkening on his cheeks and chin from where hair threatened to peek out but it only barely showed color. His hair was a scraggly mess that hung in front of his face and all around the bulb of his head, unkempt and medium length. Crimson gems clung to the tops of his eyes almost in nonchalance as he took in the predicament he had walked into. His body was as thin as it was long, hidden behind the dark blue jacket he wore and the black undershirt beneath that.
The teenage Mythal sighed as he slowly dropped the pack on his shoulder to the ground. “Listen, I’m gonna only say this once,” he said softly, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Get lost before this gets messy. I’ve been walkin’ all day and the last thing I need is a bunch of wanna-be thieves tryin’ to hold me up over a bedroll and some dry bread.”
A ripple of laughter echoed throughout the bandits quietly as they glanced at one another. The thin leader chuckled the loudest. “Bold words there, fellow but words don’t mean much in these parts. But you’re good for a laugh so how about only half of us jump in and tear you to shreds?” As if queued for the response, four of the bandits took step forward, each one sporting a different kind of weapon.
Mythal glanced at them and then back to the leader. “Can’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he offered with a simply shrug before he ripped his right hand out from his pocket. It dove into his jacket and brought out a long, extremely foreign blade. The blade itself was nearly a foot long, with undulating curves that came to sharp points both on the front and back. The guard folded down over the handle with long talons, each one as sharp as the weapon itself. A pointed pommel lay resting on the butt of the blade, completing the deadly ensemble. As soon as it was freed from the confines of his jacket, the blade lit up and electricity began to crackle and spark all around it. Long, jagged bolts erupted out further, thrusting into several of the bandits around him and forcing them to the ground. Each one of them jerked and shook as the magical lightning played fiddle with their nervous system.
Despite three of the men going down instantly upon unsheathing, Mythal stood tall and unguarded, the crackling weapon resting near his side. “Last chance. Then I get serious.”
The thin bandit looked around at the three that had been struck down, his eyes wide. This punk had a magical weapon! With a snarl he thrust his sword forward at Mythal, screeching “Get him!”
It seemed Mythal wasn’t going to be intimidating any of these guys away. He bent into a crouch and brought the dagger up in time to block the first sword as it swung in towards him, the blade of his weapon shooting electricity into the metal blade and down into the bandit’s hand. The teenager curled around the stunned man and kicked him in the rear, sending him staggering forward and into the blades of the other weapons that had been coming in towards Mythal. Four of the bandits nearly fell back as the newly skewered man coughed up blood and went limp on them, forcing them backwards.
Meanwhile Mythal turned his attention to the closest bandit, leaping in on him. He had a warhammer, something that would not be easily parried by the teenager’s knife. Mythal glanced up at him as he swung the hammer up in preparation to crush the teenager underneath it. He waited until the last possible moment to leap under the bandit’s arm, barely dodging the heavy head of the hammer. Mythal came out from the roll and sliced at the man’s back, releasing another bolt of electricity right into his core. The bandit screeched and froze up as his body suffered the pangs of the magical attack.
The teenage God Slayer let out a breath, already feeling wear on his body. His survival skills and instincts were the only true training he had when it came to combat, having only relied on his limited ability to use a knife. There was his ‘trump’ card per se but that was something he couldn’t just activate of his own free will. If he got pushed back enough in this fight, there was a chance it would come out but that was neither here nor there at the moment. Instead the street rat dodged a few slashes from two swords before he could an opening, swinging the dagger inwards towards two more of the bandits and carving open their chests. Electricity was crackling so loudly from all the injured men around him that it was like the droning in night bugs. His focus was lost for a moment and a sword swung in towards him. He managed to get his knife up in time but the size difference sent Mythal flying back into the road. It also managed to cut a line over his forehead, fresh blood pooling into the opening and running down the side of his head.
The thin bandit had made his move and, now that he had Mythal on the defensive, he charged forward. Instincts roared in the teenager’s ears as he fell back several steps, avoiding the stabs and slashes meant to cleave and impale. He managed to land some palpable stabs with the pommel of the dagger but the wounds seemed to only egg the man on. It wasn’t until Mythal found himself pinned against a tree that he managed to duck under a swing, embedding the sword into the trunk. The teenager pushed off from the tree and shoulder blocked man to the ground, rolling off of him and spinning around to stab the blade down into his chest. That was a hit strong enough to take the fight out of the thin bandit.
The sound of something moving behind him forced Mythal to extract the dagger out from the previously impaled bandit and toss it on a whim as he spun. The fat bandit wasn’t expecting a thrown weapon to come flying at him and could do nothing to prevent it from flying into his neck. His own dagger fell to the forest floor as he reached up to his impaled trachea, blood already staining the bottom of his hood. A few gurgles escaped his mouth before he toppled backwards, his body unwilling to keep standing as it perished.
Mythal sighed as he feel back onto his hands, breathing heavily as he inhaled air back into his lungs. It’d been a few months since he had lost gotten into a fight and frankly, it was exhausting. If it had happened earlier in the day, he may not have done so well. The damn sun had a fantastic way of draining him of his energy along with blinding him. But at the same time, he wasn’t exactly teeming with energy after having walked several miles. “Fuckin’ bandits,” he breathed out as he finally got himself to his feet and walked over to the fat bandit. He pulled the knife free of his neck and cleaned it off on the bandit’s shirt, not wanting the stench or stain of blood on him anymore than it already was. He reached up and felt the thin river of blood that had trailed down the side of his face, groaning in annoyance.
The one benefit was the loot. Bandits like this were always trying to get the jump on people and steal their stuff. That meant that they probably had some pretty good stash that Mythal could take back. He looted through each one of the bodies carefully, finding the odd trinket here and there but nothing really of substance. But then he got to the thin bandit and within one of his pockets was a hand drawn map. It was crude and a bit beleaguered from constantly being unfolded and folded but still decipherable. And a large black circle seemed to indicate a basecamp. “And where there’s a basecamp, there’s stolen goods.” Mythal muttered softly as he noted where the camp seemed to be.
He looked around at the group of bandits, all lying on the ground in differing states of defeat. They seemed to be the whole force but were there others? Was it worth the aggravation of going all the way there to discover more of the same? He sighed as he walked over to his pack, picking it up and feeling just how light it was. He’d been low on food for several days now, barely scraping by with what he’d bought over a week ago. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed whatever he could get. With another sigh, he reached down and grabbed the torch of the closest bandit, taking a moment to go around and douse the rest of them. He didn’t need the assistance of the light but maybe if he came with the torch, the bandits would think twice about attacking him at first.
Or they would just kill him on the spot. At this point, he wasn’t holding his breath for either option.
Words: 2493/3500 | Young Mythal | Etc