Elytra. A world of heroes, might and magic. Where the common man may one day need to rise above his peers to battle the forces of evils and the nastiest monsters the world can throw at him, and the next, return to his peaceful village as a farmer.
Those who make battle their calling however, those few who would brave the wilds, the mightiest of foes, that would rise in strength and live a life full of danger as they go forth throughout the land, are known by only one (good) name.
Adventurers.
"Bad idea Elaine. I'm telling you, this can only lead us into trouble."
"Really Karie? Ya been harping out about how ya don't want any more party members but before that ya were harpin' about how it's "too dangerous for us to do this". Ya know we can't have it both ways right?"
Karie, the rogue who had spoken, looked over to Trex with a glare.
"And do you think I'm wrong? Going off on this quest is going to get us all killed and accepting a stranger into our group isn't any better. My knife isn't the only one that can end up in someone's back."
"And that is why," Elaine had decided to speak up "we must make a strong judgment of their character and overall abilities. It's not simply enough for us to trust them, they must be a good fit for us. Ah, Mary is back."
Mary, carrying four pitchers of ale in her arms that threatened to spill, had returned with a gentle smile on her face.
"A self serving adventurer bar is quite a place. Ah, are we still talking about the adventurer's notice we put in?"
"Hah. "trust them" and "still." We shouldn't do much of any of the first and a lot more of the last. I'm just saying, trusting our lives to someone we just met is incredibly dangerous. And make no mistake, that's exactly what we're doing by inviting someone to adventure with us."
"Well, we will just have to see what kind of person our notice attracts and you can personally vouch or veto them."
That satisfied Karie enough that she only lightly complained and bitched as she tested and drank her ale.
As they settled into their tankards, there was a similar thought on each of their minds.
"How long will it be until we find our 5th party member?"
They would not have to wait long.
.
.
.
Marcus Michelangelo entered the bar.
He was a curious fellow. Young, brown hair, thin build, clearly early 20's, wearing what seemed to be traveling clothes consisting of a T-shirt and loose pants. He had an easy smile on his face that some would say made him look cocky or too assured of himself. But no one could deny, he had confidence in himself.
He looked around the bar for a little while, eventually finding the group he was looking for.
There sat his future party. He had noticed the lovely quad of beautiful elf women when he was returning from a routine quest. Their notice of needing a 5th member in the adventure guild was surprising, as were the qualifications. For starters, with four women, he had immediately expected that they would be harshly against any kind of male presence. Clearly they had a thing going on, after all, and adding a guy into the mix would've been odd.
And yet surprised he was, for multiple reasons.
The qualifications we're not asking for light members in any way, shape, or form. They were directly asking for someone of considerable power. That means they themselves were probably not too far below that level or were equal with it at the very least. There was also no type or limit in any other way. Power was purely the name of the game. That reeked of needing someone and needing someone now, rather than later.
Well, Marcus always did love a challenge.
He took the time to examine his party as they talked.
The second tallest immediately drew his attention. It was something in the way she held herself. Her face was a little hawk-like and her bearing was... nobility? It was just something in the way she moved and sat, like she was at a fancy party then in a rowdy inn. She almost seemed fragile, like how elves were portrayed in novels. She had long straight hair, wearing a leather top and skirt, with a bow strapped around her and a quiver on her back. A true archer through and through then. Marcus took a guess she was the leader and that was mostly because of the other members.
Next was the healer, the looks between her and the Archer were extremely easy to see. Sister's without a doubt. But where as the Archer looked like a classic example of what elves were, the priest was taller, curvier, and generally more filled out. She was wearing heavy robes but even through that, you could tell she was not slacking in certain sizes of things. She had a gentle, peaceful look on her face, and was shorter than her sister, which made her look even more stacked comparatively. She had a short bob cut hairstyle and a staff attached to her back through a strap. If there were only a few words he could use to describe her, he would use "gentle" and "supple." Clearly a priestess judging by her gear.
Now if he had seen their ranged damage dealer and healer, his 3rd party member was the fighter. And she was pushing what should be possible for elf biology, for sure. She was a fighter through and through and she wore very little clothing. A shirt that didn't cover her 6 pack abs or stomach, shorts that barely got past the waist before they stopped, she was absolutely stacked. Muscular, athletic, fierce. She was a fighter through and through and the lack of armor was probably not a concern at all considering her build and class. She had long wavy hair, big breasts, thick thighs, was the tallest one there and most frighteningly, she had no weapon. A pure hand to hand fighter. Her punches could probably put holes in plate mail. She was the tallest on here and currently drowning herself in ale it seemed and laughing all the while.
The last, but certainly not least, took him a while to find. She was hidden behind the Fighter. Judging by the darker clothing and almost unnatural way she blended in with the surroundings, she was definitely the rogue. She was cute, in a particular way. She was the shortest and the word coming to mind when looking at her chest was "flat." But that didn't make her look any less lethal. Far from that. She had two daggers on each side of her, in clear view, and possibly more knives hidden. Her face was extremely cold and she looked like she was flat out glaring at her drink. Marcus could tell that this one was going to be the problem child. If anyone had a criticism of him, it would be her.