"Name, Class, and Motivation, please."
A young man with black hair and dark skin sits in the middle of a beige room. He adjusted his red shirt before shifting in his seat, his star-like eyes scanning the room. He took a breath, looking to the interviewer. "Hero, Hero Kiamelel. I'm an Exemplar." He paused for a moment. "Level 1, of course."
[Hero Kiamelel: Level 1 Exemplar] Exceptionally strong, absurdly dexterous, decently durable, and quite charismatic-- sporting a poor intelligence and wisdom.
"I... want to help people. I want to be a number added to lower the statistical average of a tragedy ever happening again."
[Alignment: Rebel Good]
The next interviewee arrived, an exceptionally large woman with heritage in both Jotunn and Orcish ancestry, sporting the marks of her larger forebearers on her cheeks, bangs hanging low to cover her eyes, and with some of that hair tied into a ponytail as what remained rolled over her shoulders. Her outfit was casual, wearing a hoodie that was somehow oversized, along with a pair of jeans.
She wandered in, confusedly looking around for a place to sit before being motioned across from where the Interviewer had sat.
After a slight struggle, once she sat down, adjusting her seat to be at a comfortable angle, she leaned in as the interviewer spoke. "Okay, Name, Class, and Motivation, please."
"Uh... Da-Dahlia Albernen." She rubbed her face, revealing a pinched expression and a sharp ruby gaze. "I-I'm uh... aiming to be a Cleric. You... you could consider me a Barbarian, though." She chuckled nervously.
[Dahlia Albernen: Level 1 Barbarian] Strongest in the group, decently dexterous, and has an exceptional endurance to boot. Wiser than they'd seem, not charismatic in the slightest, and generally poor in intelligence-based activities.
"I... I simply just want to help people. So... even if it has to be... y-y'know... puttin' these muscles to good use, then so be it." Dahlia chuckled once again.
[Alignment: Neutral Moral]
"Damn! It's bright in here!" A smaller girl cried out, carrying a bag as she entered. "Can someone turn the lights down!? It's too early for this shit!" Her hair was a dark brown, sporting exceptionally thick eyebrows, and hazel eyes sat underneath, freckles dotted across her nose and face. She sat down, setting the bag roughly onto the table as a large, skeleton of an automaton entered the room behind her, sharing features similar to a grasshopper's.
The girl wore a white tank top, a coat wrapped around her waist, whilst wearing large cargo pants underneath that were pulled up to her waist.
The interviewer cut in whilst they were focused on getting their bearings in order. "Could you state your Name, Class, and Motivations for us?"
The girl's head whipped out from behind her massive bag, wearing a startled expression on her face. "Uh..."
In another interview room, a more regal woman with deep, purplish skin sits down, a cold gaze meeting with her interviewer. Two sharp ears jut out from her head, hair set into two buns set by the nape of her neck. Her cold, yet sharp gaze sent shivers down the interviewer's spine. She leaned into her chair, crossing her arms. She wore some sort of tribal attire that could only be seen in the Undercities of Draudilythill.
A small, spherical silver clasp is set between the collar of this shirt, down to the remainder of her garments that cover only the breast down of her torso, whilst her arms remained exposed. Other silver accessories were lined across her left ear and nose.
"Uh... so... m-ma'am. What is your Name, Class, and Motivation?"
Back into the room with the dark-haired girl, she had tied her hair up, her curly locks being pushed out of the way from her face, her lips pursed in thought. "Uh... Emer Ó Ceallaigh... um... I'm an Inventor, and my motivation is..."
She paused for a moment, twisting her lips, considering the next words that she had to say.
[Emma O'Kelly: Level 1 Inventor] Not the strongest, but is decently dexterous. They have decent endurance, are exceptionally intelligent, decently wise, and have little to no charisma.
"I guess... this school is kinda the only opportunity that I got..." A beat. "When you've been made a hermit your whole life, stuff like this is often the only shot you get, so... If being an amazing Inventor means I gotta risk my life... then... I gotta do what I gotta do. If Wizards do it, then do as the Wizards do, no?"
[Alignment: True Neutral]
When moving back to the Elf, currently brooding, a pinched expression remaining on her face, and suddenly, she spoke. "This place..."
The interviewer is startled for a moment, having been made to wait for a solid five minutes before the Elven girl had responded.
"I'm excited..." They sighed longingly. "I am Viana, Viana Sarria. I'm a Ranger."
[Viana Sarria: Level 1 Rogue] She lied during the interview about her class. In actuality, she was a Rogue, an exceptional one at that. She is very much lacking in the strength department, but in terms of dexterous feats, her motor control is exceptional, being capable of reacting to the smallest of things. Arrows, traps, et cetera. Decently intelligent, exceptionally wise, and charismatic, but isn't durable in the slightest.
"I've often wondered what adventuring in the overworld would be like. Being provided an opportunity like this... I can't help but be... jubilated, maybe that's the word?" Viana chuckled. "I can't wait to meet my first adventuring party."
[Alignment: Lawful Impure]
An empty chair rolled to the side, the interviewer waiting patiently with their fingers steepled. They blink, watching as the seat drifts to the side. "Where are they...?"
The seat drifted further and further, alarming the interviewer, lifting itself from its seat, confused.
"Boo!"
A silver reptilian man slunk out from behind the interviewer, escaping their invisibility with a smile on their face. A cowboy hat sat on their head, tongue flicking curiously.
[Rogier Arryn: Level 1 Sorcerer] Middling Strength, middling Dexterity, a decent amount of endurance, not intelligent in the slightest, pretty wise, and incredibly charismatic.
[Alignment: Chaotic Evil]
"Before the current age, the Age of Adventuring, there was an Age of Strife. The Lich King, Ozymandias, ran rampant." An older man in a suit stood at a podium, his beard in the shape of a star. He looked out at the youths that were scattered about in front of him, a smile on his face. "This Age of Strife was often referred to as the War of Gods-- an alternative title, if you will."
Freshmen all gathered in the auditorium. Orientation day.
"During the Month of Harvest, the 18th, 1826, Malivas Mars faced off against Ozymandias, an Exemplar of Ludicia. In a sacrificial gambit, Malivas Mars used his own life, his wish to seal away the Lich King. Once the battle had concluded, a crater lay in its wake. Malivas's body could not be found. Years later, spurred on by the heroic deeds of my now passed on ally, I, and only I, singular! Brought about the Age of Adventuring! I, the most stupendous, fantastical mage of all! Alastro Psiderigmos Solatra! I am also known as none other than the principal of this prestigious academy! The Mars Adventuring Academy!"
"He's got a head up his ass, doesn't he?" Emma whispered to herself amongst the crowd, their construct looking around like a curious child with rigid, jittering movements.
The remainder of the orientation was a basic introduction to the various Class Teachers of the school, eventually being released to the main courtyard to be divided up into their parties.
Emma, by herself, fiddled with a pendant stating which party she was supposed to be a part of, signified by a number. Her's was 6. She flicked it between her fingers, scanning the courtyard, quietly observing as other parties formed much earlier than she could find hers.
Sheepishly shifting through the crowd, she slammed straight into a large object, her automaton being forced to catch her before reaching the ground. She looked up, finding a massive woman towering over her; Dahlia.
"O-Oh! I'm sorry!" Dahlia exclaimed, recoiling not long after Emma was sent careening into her construct companion.
Emma rubbed her nose, brow pinched, eyes proceeding to lock onto the number "6" pendant also hanging around Dahlia's neck. "U-Uh..." Emma sputtered. "Y-Are you a part of my party?"
Dahlia blinked, then pointed at the pendant also hanging around Emma's neck. "Oh! Yeah!"
Emma sighed. "Finally."
Swiftly after, one by one, they all finally managed to find each other. This is also due in part to the fact that Dahlia towered over the majority of the students who currently reside on Mars Academy premises.
And now, Hero, Viana, Emma, and Dahlia sat in a circle, an awkward silence encompassing them.
Hero pursed his lips for a moment, speaking up first. "Uh... I'm Hero, nice to meet you all."
Dahlia nodded. "D-Dahlia! Pleasure!"
They both glanced at their quieter party members. Emma spoke up first. "I... uh... I'm Emer Ó Ceallaigh..." She pointed to her construct. "That's Rider... he's uh... in the prototype stages... as you can see..." The machine looked well-crafted, but was put together with worn-out parts, so its movements were much more jittery and violent.
Hero chuckled a little. "That's... quite the machine."
Emma nodded. "It certainly is."
Finally, Viana spoke up. "Viana Sarria."
After some time waiting, Hero scanned the scattered crowd of people. "We seem to be missing a person. It should be five, right? Minimum of three?"
Emma shrugged.
Dahlia scanned the crowd with Hero. "Are we missing someone? Is it not just us four?"
"Well, all parties start with five, look." He pointed to the others.
"Hm~" Dahlia rhythmically clicked her tongue, eyes narrowed. "Maybe they're late?"
"Or they're lost?"
Viana glanced at the two. "Or we were snubbed."
"Well, regardless... we have a pretty well-rounded group from what I can see, so..." Hero shrugged. "Let's assign a leader."
"This quick?" Emma questioned.
"Well... It's better to do it earlier rather than later, no?"
Emma had a thought, but she pushed it back, opting to just nod and let them continue. "Okay."
Dahlia raised a hand. "Uh... so how should we... um... determine the leader and stuff?"
Viana cocked a brow. "Maybe... say some things that make us a good leader?"
Emma raised her hand. "I'm not, so don't vote for me." Alright, I just need to stay in the background, do quests, and make shit in class. It should be simple enough. Emma thought to herself.
Dahlia raised her hand as well. "I... I also don't think I'd be a very good leader, either..."
Hero smiled, looking to Viana. "Guess it's just between you and me now, right?"
Viana shrugged. "We could also just have those who'd like to be leader, demo it, y'know?"
"Like a trial period as the party leader?"
Viana nodded.
Hero sighed. "Okay, do you want to trial first?"
She shrugged again. "I don't mind, it's up to the others, though."
Hero chuckled. "And we end up back to where we started."
A voice cut into the conversation, causing everyone to jump simultaneously. "Or you all could vote me~!" Intruding on the conversation was Rogier Arryn, tipping his hat to the ladies. Rogier proceeded to wrap an arm around Hero's shoulders, a smirk remaining on his face. "Sorry for being late. I... had a few run-ins on the way here," He looked to Hero, face to face. "Hope ya don't mind, do ya?"
Hero looked confused, pushing Rogier away. "Pleasure, and... look, I don't mind, I-- does everyone else?"
Silence permeated around them for a moment before Emma's hand was slowly raised into the air.
"Anyhow!" Ignoring Emma, he spun around, standing up straight. "What were you all talkin' about?"
Viana, eyes half-lidded, spoke. "We were discussing who we'd want as a leader, and agreed upon having a trial period for anyone who wanted to be a leader first."
"Oh?"
"We'd be relying on a vote for whoever gets to be leader first."
"That sounds like a game that I'd wanna be a part of! Look 'ere! Look 'ere! I know I may not look to be the most reliable chap around, but I swear to it that I'll bring us straight to the top in grades throughout the entire Academy in the span of a few weeks, and you know what that means, don't ya'll?"
A beat, Dahlia speaking up to break the silence. "What...?"
"It means, by then, we all ain't gotta worry about shit! Get your grades high enough, and the Academy becomes a breeze, y'get me!? If you catch my drift, I can lead us straight there."
Emma threw her hands in the air. "And how the hell would we do that?"
"Easy! But... risky! You don't want to keep me as leader, mind you! I'm just asking for this single, trial period to be offered to our first trial period!"
"Risky?"
"Taking the hardest quests, that's how. Take one hard quest, and the rest become a breeze~! On our second quest, we'd have a damn S-Rank in our Quests, and we could just focus all our time relaxing, or on more important shit, y'get me!? So I ask just this once, okay?"
"R-What are you saying? We're only level 1, we shouldn't..." Emma shut herself up to let Rogier continue.
"Think about the money, think about the fame! And think about not having to do jack shit afterwards!"
Viana chimed in with a question of her own. "What level would the quest be?"
"We'd start with a level 2 quest. If we play it carefully, nothing will go wrong! Hard enough to make us sweat, but not hard enough to where it's impossible, y'get me?" Rogier connected his palms, almost in a pleading motion. "Just this once, I swear it'll go well!" He pointed excitedly to Emma's automaton, Rider. "We also got an extra body! Way more than a normal party, y'know!?"
They all look at him for a moment with questioning looks on their faces. They all then look back at each other, and then back at Rogier
***
Emma, hair down, rested the back of her head on a bench in one of the many courtyards in the Academy. "Fuck... what were we even thinking?"
The lowest level of quests is quests of the -4 ranking, which means that the quest is simple enough not to pose a physical or mental threat to a person. A quest is typically associated with carrying objects from one point to the other, or simply finding a lost item.
-3 or -2 quests meant that there were minor to major amounts of physical labor, and had no notable threats to one's life.
-1 meant that there is one, singular possibility of a threat to one's life. Mostly dealing with a single individual who was being too rowdy, or a generally small interpersonal conflict between two people of interests, most of the time, some sort of domestic call of sorts, or a random drunk pissing people off.
These are the quests typically taken by level 1 parties-- starting themselves off onto something significantly simpler as they slowly rise the ranks to level 2, which is when they begin involving themselves in more dangerous predicaments, more physical confrontations, monsters, or otherwise.
A Level 1 quest means that there are at least 2 or more targets that are simple to take out in a full party, generally, nothing that parties typically have to worry about, and as a Level 2 party, it becomes a simple endeavor.
Level 2 quests are typically perfect for Level 2 or 3 parties. The challenge is significant enough for them to make progress, but easy enough wherein the possibility of death is something that comes off as more of an afterthought than something to necessarily be required to consider.
For a Level 1 party, though, a Level 2 quest was no simple endeavor. Quests are more than meets the eye after all, and all quests above -1 have considerably more unpredictable factors. At level 2, you have some assurance to fall back on as you are more experienced compared to your predecessors, whilst at Level 3, you're most likely significantly stronger than the threats you could even find in a Level 2 quest to begin with, so much so that unpredictable factors shouldn't even be taken into consideration to begin with.
As a Level 1 party, however, though a Level 2 quest is possible, there is practically nothing that they can fall back on, and death is a very real possibility. It isn't impossible, though... that's the most important fact. It isn't impossible... Emma thought to herself, focused on the blue sky above her, eyes narrowed.
What have I gotten myself into...? Emma groaned, blinking hard as if trying to wake herself up from a bad dream. With the third blink, a shadow is cast over her, causing her to jump away like a cornered animal.
The figure recoiled as well, revealed soon to be Dahlia, the Barbarian of their party. "I-I'm sorry! Did I scare you!?"
Emma blinked. "Uh... N-No, no... uh... no. Sorry..."
"N-No! I'm s-sorry." Dahlia chuckled, palms facing Emma in surrender.
A moment of silence, both at a pseudo-standoff, staring at each other. Emma licked her lips, brow cocked. "Uh... do you need something?"
Dahlia panicked, looking around frantically before loudly yelling, "W-Would you like to be friends!?"
"Huh?"
"Would you like to be friends?" Dahlia repeated in a softer tone.
Emma swallowed, eyes flickering across Dahlia, a curious expression on her face. "Um... okay... sure."
Dahlia's face brightened almost immediately, hugging Emma and spinning around excitedly, both screaming, the other in joy, and the other, overwhelmed by the current circumstances.
After Dahlia finally stopped spinning, Emma collapsed onto the ground, clutching their back.