As the people – with an air of reluctance and hesitation – walked into the armory, Brian got a peek at the inside through the wide open door. Hanging vertically on various hooks on the walls were an assortment of polearms. They didn't seem sorted beyond that. Halberds, bordered pikes, sat next to poleaxes and a variety of spears. There were even partisans and a singular guandao hanging amongst them. This Adventurer's Guild, if nothing else, was certainly well equipped.

It came time for Brian to step through the door. The moment he did, a brown cloth coin purse was thrust in front of his face. He stopped short of running his nose into it. His eyes followed the arm to a tall man in a sleeveless green tunic and simple cloth breeches. Fair of complexion, this man was impossibly handsome with his green eyes and glorious red hair. Brian thought him just a normal dude, until he saw the long pointy ears.

It was then that Brian remembered what Edgar had just said. Each member would be offered 200 gold pieces to purchase equipment. That's probably what the coin purse was for, then, which would make the person holding it the Quartermaster. Therdin was an elf.

Brian took the purse with a stare for Therdin, who gave him a broad smile but said nothing. Coin in hand, the human realized he was holding up the line. He took a few steps into the room and stood off to one side. His mind raced at a thousand miles a minute. An elf, a real elf. Forget the torches, the landscape, the armed guards, and even the architecture, that was what really cemented things for him. Seeing an elf in the flesh brought the reality crashing down around him. Even if it were just makeup – a possibility he was unwilling to rule out – Brian was most certainly not in New York anymore.

When he thought about it, that was what really mattered. Say this whole situation were a trick or a dream, so what? Fake or not, he was in it now. He, as a normal human, was now in Exandria. This Edgar fellow was going to turn him into a mercenary of some sort. Until he found a way out of this conundrum, it may have been in his best interest to take things more seriously. If Brian had to be a sellsword, then he should work toward that eventuality.

To that end, he took a good look around the armory. It was another room longer than it was wide, but much larger than the one he'd woken up in. Ten people could probably stand abreast with their arms outstretched widthwise, and many more could do the same in the opposite direction. Unlike the first room, this one was not lit by torches. Instead, globes of white light along the ceiling provided ample illumination. It was bright as any modern day living room inside.

The entire far wall was dedicated to weaponry. They were sorted by type so all the swords went together, same with all the axes, polearms, bows, crossbows, staves, et cetera. While mostly a European-styled affair, there were some oddballs breaking up the scenery. A katana hung amongst the swords, a bardiche with the axes, a short horn bow, and a few others.

The wall to his right contained what appeared to be miscellaneous equipment. Though Brian couldn't see it very well, he noticed things like packs of herbs, robes, lockpicks, torches, maps, and a bunch of other stuff he failed to quite make out. The recruits were probably supposed to use this area for the creation of things like dungeoneering kits. There was also a door in the right-hand corner of this wall, leading to parts unknown.

He turned to look at the displays behind him. This wall was all armor. Mostly light and medium varieties, there were a few plate harnesses to choose from. The far corner contained shields. It was then that Brian noticed each individual item had a price tag, which must've been where the 200 gold came into play. He just so happened to be right in front of a pair of scale armor. The cuirass cost 40 gold, each pauldron was 10, the schynbalds 20, gloves 10, and helmet 30. If the weapons were much more expensive, then that gift of gold wouldn't last very long.

Which brought him to his next point, weapons. If he were choosing gear, that seemed like a good place to start. Brian made his way over to the wall of armaments. It was a bit daunting the sheer number of options available to him. He'd no idea where to begin.

If he really were trapped inside a Dungeons and Dragons game, then it followed game logic would apply. That in mind, he knew something ranged was his best option. He'd done archery in gym class, and even though that was a long time ago, he felt confident in his abilities to at least harass a target. And, a bow kept him out of the danger. The only problem was most parties in the game were overburdened with ranged characters using the same argument. When the danger were real, the issue could be expected to worsen. He may be better off with something else.

Wizardry was a hard no. He didn't feel like lugging around a giant book everywhere. Same for anything with a two-handed weapon. He probably couldn't even lift a great axe, much less swing one. Sword and board it was, then.

Now, what role would he play? There were always plenty of fighters, rogues, and rangers to go around. If he wanted to be valuable, then it was best to avoid those archetypes. Every party, however, needed a healer, but no one ever wanted to be the cleric. Thinking like that led him to where he currently stood in the far corner of the weapon wall, before a holy symbol of the Platinum Dragon.

He didn't mind being the healer, and had even played a very successful human war cleric a few years ago. Channeling that character now solved both the problem of middling melee support and a potential lack of healers. He took the silver dragon pendant and slipped it around his neck.

Brian took a step toward something he saw back up the weapon wall.

"Um, excuse me?" A small voice from behind stopped him.

Brian turned and came face-to-face with Tiffany, playing with the hem of her pink v-neck, looking up at him with soft eyes.

"Uh, hi?" he said, voice cracking like an idiot.

"Do you- would you mind helping me out? I've never seen any of this stuff before, and you look like you know what you're doing." The way she spoke was fast and wooden, probably a statement rehearsed many times before delivery.

Brian seriously doubted that. Tall, skinny, bespectacled, and almost sickly pale, he didn't look the first thing like a warrior. But, he couldn't say no to her, either. They were all in this together, after all. If he were going to be a cleric and help people, what better way to start than by helping someone?

"Sure, I'll help you," he said. "Come on, let's go look at the weapons first. That's what I'm doing."

Brian took off in the direction he'd been about to go, with Tiffany a half step behind. She smelled faintly of flowers and chemicals.

"Okay, I need to ask you a dumb question first." He gave her time to respond. She just stared at him. "Have you ever used a sword before?"

"Really?" She scrunched up her face. "What do you think?"

"Alright, thought so. Follow-up question: Have you ever fired a gun?"

Tiffany cocked her stance and raised an eyebrow. "I'm from Dallas."

"So 'yes,' then. In that case, what you're looking for is one of these." Brian stopped them in front of a particular section.

"A bow and arrow?"

"A crossbow. Light crossbow, to be exact." Brian corrected as he took it off the wall. "The concept is mostly the same as a gun. You pull back this string, load a bolt, shoulder it, and pull up on the little lever on the bottom here."

Brian demonstrated each step as he explained them, save for loading a bolt. The crossbow made a distinctly unsatisfying thump as the string released with no weight to push forward.

" Have you... used one of these before?" Tiffany asked, surprised. Or maybe she was off-put. Brian couldn't really tell.

"No, but I've seen enough movies and played enough games to know basically how one of these works," Brian said, which was true. He skipped that he'd seen more than one instructional video about how to fire a crossbow, not for class or anything, but for fun.

"Right." Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Is this all I need?"

"No, not quite. You need the bolts, first of all." Brian handed the crossbow to Tiffany, followed by a full quiver from the wall. She took them both in her arms.

"Okay…" Tiffany trailed off as she made space for both objects.

"Next you'll need a pair of these." Brian moved one section down the wall and removed two sheathed daggers from their hooks. He held them out to her.

"Why do I need two knives?" She asked with a suspicious look at them.

"So you can make an off-hand attack," Brian answered simply.

"A what?"

"An off-hand attack. It's when you have a weapon in each hand you can roll for…" He stopped himself. "Just in case something happens to the first one."

He handed her the daggers, looking at the floor instead of her face. There were no rules to refer to, no dice to worry about, not anymore. He felt so foolish, thinking about things like bonus actions in a place like this.

"Come on, let's get the rest of your gear." He led Tiffany over toward the east wall, eager to put that little slip-up behind him.

"I need more stuff?" Tiffany protested.

"Just a few more things. It takes a lot of gear to be an adventurer."

"Adventurer, huh? You're really getting in the spirit."

"Not really, "Brian shrugged. "It just a general term, you know?"

"Actually, I don't. I think all this fantasy stuff is stupid. I've never even heard of this Toasterwald, or wherever we are."

Brian let that slide off his back. Tiffany was far from the first pretty girl to tell him his interests were stupid, and she wouldn't be the last. Instead, he just stopped them in front of the miscellaneous gear wall.

"I'm setting you up as a rogue, so you don't really need much from back here. Most important is a set of thieves tools." He handed her a bundle of various lockpicks and trap disarming devices. "Other than that, some rope, two torches, and a healing potion are always good things to have." He also handed her these things.

"How do you know what thieves tools even look like?" Tiffany asked, audibly shuffling stuff around in her arms.

"I don't really, but I know what lockpicks look like, so I'm assuming the bundle with lockpicks in it is meant for thieves or something."

Brian turned to look at Tiffany, and had to stop himself from laughing. She'd managed to put on the quiver – incorrectly over just one shoulder. The thieves tools were in one hand. The rest she balanced on her arms, including the health potion in its glass vial.

"Here, I can carry some of that," he said. Brian grabbed the torches and the potion, which then occupied both of his hands. "There's one last thing you need: armor." He walked past her toward the appropriate wall.

"Like a knight or something?" Tiffany said as she turned to fall in behind him.

"No, no, I'm thinking something much lighter. Rogues always wear leather or cloth."

"That sounds really lame."

Brian brought her to the section of wall dedicated to leather armors. There were a multitude of sizes and styles to choose from, some more outlandish than others, some dyed while others left plain brown. Just like with the scale he'd looked at, each piece was priced individually. With how cheap the rest of Tiffany's eqipment was, she could probably afford to deck herself out in full leather.

One set in particular looked like it might fit. The cuirass was made up of two big pieces, one over lapping the other with a chevron point at the bottom. Two tear drop shaped pauldrons integrated into the design, which brought up the price a bit. Some sort of black fur was laid beneath the leather itself. There was also a pair of bracers with several rows of studs, as well as half-calf boots in a similar pattern. A simple skull cap rounded out the ensemble. It was likely effective, but didn't really fit with the rest of the pieces.

"You want me to wear this?" Tiffany seemed utterly aghast.

"Or something like it," Brian shrugged. "You can pick out whatever you like."

"Okay, I was wrong. This is so much worse than just lame. I don't think I can find a word for it." Tiffany said. She probably would've crossed her arms, were she able.

"Oh, come on. I'm sure it'll look fine," implored Brian.

"Fine? It doesn't even come with pants!"

"I think you're supposed to buy some quilted trousers or something to go with it." Brian pointed the direction they'd come from, where the cloth armor was. "Though, denim is pretty good at turning blades. You might be fine with just jeans." He didn't dare tell her the armor most likely was meant to be worn as is. Fantasy armor was never quite kind to women. Tiffany would probably shoot him if he said as much.

"Alright, well, even so, I don't have the first idea how to put on any of this." Tiffany continued to find things to object over.

"Uh, well, I could probably help you, but I don't think that would be appropriate." Brian looked at the floor, the ceiling, the torches in his hands, anywhere but at her face. He hoped she wouldn't notice how red his cheeks were.

"You think?" Tiffany rolled her eyes at him. More specifically, his half-assed attempt at a come on.

"I might be able to lend a hand," a voice interjected, one with a distinctly Norwegian accent.

She was tall for a woman, just a tad shorter than Brian's 5'10". Silky black hair spilled about six inches down her back and shoulders, and framed the pale skin on her pretty, long face. Bright green eyes pierced Brian to the very core. For all her intimidating beauty, what struck him most about this woman were her clothes.

She wore a short sleeved chain maille hauberk with an emerald green shirt beneath. A big round shield hung from her back, while a Viking-style sword dangled from her left hip. Leather bracers protected her wrists and forearms halfway up. Brown cloth trousers fed into leather schynbalds and boots. Athletic and strong, it all suited her perfectly. Brian looked around the room. As far as he could tell, she were the only one wearing a single scrap of armor.

"Ylva," she introduced herself with an outstretched hand.

"Brian." He accepted her handshake. They released, and Ylva moved on to the next person.

"Tiffany." The two shook.

"Nice to meet you both," Ylva said with a nod.

"I, uh… I hate to ask, but are you-" Brian began.

"I'm like you," Ylva cut him off. He breathed a mental sigh of relief. "You were looking for help with your armor?" She said to Tiffany.

"Sure, I guess." Responded Tiffany.

"Well come on, then. Something like that takes two people to put on, anyway." Ylva gestured toward the door near the miscellaneous table.

"Why would I go anywhere with you? I don't know you, and besides that, you're armed." She stepped away from the taller woman.

"Fair point." With nary an ounce of hesitation, Ylva unbuckled her sword belt and let it fall to the ground. "Now you're the armed one. I don't wanna hurt you, I promise, and if I did you've got two daggers to fight me off with. I really do wanna help."

Tiffany considered this for several seconds, more than long enough for things to grow awkward. Brian did his best not to look at anyone, so he instead went over the torches in his hands. They were good torches, probably burn real nice.

"Okay," Tiffany said finally.

"Great! Is this your stuff, too?" Ylva pointed at the things Brian carried. Both he and Tiffany nodded. "I'll take it, then." She gathered up the few items Brian managed to scavenge.

"Watch after my sword, will ya?" Ylva asked Brian, who nodded. "Thank you. We'll be right back."

With a nod for Tiffany, who seemed still confused at the sudden appearance of this tall armored woman, the two ladies headed off toward the aforementioned door. Brian watched them go, realizing as they did that he now had no one to talk to again. Despite the other people milling about the space, it felt emptier than before. He put on Ylva's sword belt. The weight on his hip was much lighter than he expected.

Well, nothing else to do now but pick out his own equipment. Unlike with Tiffany, Brian started with the armor wall since he was already standing there. If he were going for a war cleric, then he had a lot of options open to him. There was always full or partial plate, but that was far too expensive. Besides, even if he could afford it, something told him the weight would be untenable.

That line of thinking was what led him back to the scale armor he'd noticed earlier. All of the parts were made from small diamond-shaped metal flats overlapping in rows offset from one another. The cuirass consisted of two layers, with the first stopping halfway down. The pauldrons were two broad bands of scales that tied to the chest piece. The bracers and shin guards had the scales up swept. Brian didn't look at the helmet, because he knew he couldn't afford it. He grabbed all the pieces sans helmet, and added a belt of his own, for a grand total of 80 gold.

Next, weapons. Brian had exactly zero combat experience of any sort, so swords were out. Axes were also probably a safe exclusion. Really, anything with an edge he had to worry about aligning was a poor fit. He needed something much simpler.

A war hammer caught his eye. A flat head, long thick spike, and langets on an unstained wood handle, it looked menacing as it was basic. Brian took it in his hands. The weight felt good, top-heavy but not uncontrollable. And, the spike offered an amount if flexibility. It was the perfect weapon.

To go with it, he took up a heater shield, blue with silver chevrons painted on either side whose points never quite met. If he couldn't fight, making himself harder to hit may save his life.

He now knew how Tiffany felt with all this stuff in his arms. So, the first thing he picked up over at the miscellaneous wall was a tan canvas bag, the sort that hung over one shoulder and across the chest. Into the bag he stuffed a healer's kit, some rope, a torch, and some rations. With that, his kit was complete. When all was said and done he had 60 gold left over.

Which raised the question of where he would actually go about equipping all of his new items. He suspected one major reason why so few others had any armor on was because there were no changing rooms. None that were visible, anyway. Most people didn't like the idea of putting on extra garments in front of a bunch of strangers, and Brian wasn't a fan, either.

He heard a set of jangly footsteps approach from his right. Brian turned just in time to see Ylva reach him, her armor jangling a little with each step.

Behind her stood Tiffany. The leather armor fit her perfectly. Just as Brian had advised, she'd elected to keep on her pink shirt and blue jeans. Combined with the leather, it made her look like a character from Mad Max, with a distinct fantasy flair. She also had the crossbow slung around her back, the daggers vertically on her left hip, the quiver at her right, and a bag much like Brian's. Maybe it was just the nerd in him, but Brian thought she looked better in the armor, than just her clothes.

Tiffany's posture was a bit cloistered. She had one knee slightly bent, rubbing against the other. Her shoulders were hunched, head slightly down and forward as her eyes scanned the crowd but refused to look at anyone. Her right hand slowly caressed her left shoulder.

"You're back," Brian observed.

"We would've been back sooner, but I spent most of the time convincing Tiffany to come out," Ylva said, hiking a thumb over the shoulder at the aforementioned girl.

"Can you blame me? I mean, who would wanna be seen in this crap?" Tiffany took a quick glance around. "I look ridiculous."

"Naw, you look great," encouraged Ylva. "Doesn't she look great?"

It took Brian a second to realize that question had been posed to him. He froze up a bit. He knew it was bad form to compliment a woman he'd just met, especially when she were so clearly uncomfortable. In lieu of saying anything, he gave a quick nod.

"See? Even Brian agrees," Ylva said, and Brian wished she hadn't. Tiffany met his eyes, and they both looked away for a second.

"Whatever," she muttered.

"Oh, you picked out your armor," Ylva said. She stepped closer to Brian and lifted up part of a pauldron. "Scale, good choice; light, flexible, and strong."

"Thanks, that's more or less what I was going for," Brian said.

"Well, do you need a hand putting it on?" Ylva offered.

"Oh, no." Brian took a step back, shaking his head. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Oh, come on, I just helped Tiffany," insisted Ylva.

"No, really, I can manage."

"Yes, really. You're gonna need two people to put that one, especially the bracers. Good luck tying those up with just one hand."

"Still," Brian began, "don't you think it's a little... I mean, I just met you."

"Oh, don't be shy," Ylva batted the notion away. "You're not the first man I've helped get into his armor."

For a split second, Brian wondered if that was supposed to be an inuendo. No, Ylva didn't seem like the type. When that uncertainty wore off, he was left with something else: The complete lack of a reason to deny her. He doubted his ability to put any of it on by himself. Ylva, on the other hand, not only helped Tiffany, but seemed to get into her own outfit alone. Besides that, she was offering freely. He really had no reason to refuse.

"Sure," Brian said with a barely hidden sigh.

"Great! Follow me, then."

Ylva made an overhand sweeping motion then turned around and made for the door she'd just come from. Brian was silent as he walked behind her, so it was good their destination was close. He felt a little bad about leaving Tiffany alone. Hopefully they'd be back soon.

Ylva made it to the door next to the miscellaneous wall and held it open for Brian. He was conscious of the role reversal as he stepped through. He was supposed to hold the door for her, not the other way around. Ylva let the door swing closed as she fell in behind him.

"The fitting room is right over here," she said with a point to a plain wooden door immediately to their left.

"How did you even know where it is?" Brian asked.

"I asked Therdin if there was any place to change," Ylva answered simply. "He's pretty nice, very soft-spoken."

Brian stepped through the indicated passage. He found not a singular room, but a narrow hallway lined with green curtained stalls. The drapes hung a good distance from the ceiling and went almost all the way to the floor so only the feet of whoever occupied then would be visible. Currently, all we're vacant.

Since they were probably all the same, Brian entered the one closest on his right. He was momentarily stunned when Ylva followed him inside. He then remembered two things. One, he'd agreed to let her in. Two, he wouldn't actually be changing clothes, only putting more stuff on.

"Just put your armor on the floor, for now," Ylva instructed, and Brian complied. "We'll start with the hardest piece first. Give me a T pose?"

Ylva demonstrated what she meant by holding her arms up and out so she resembled the letter T. Brian copied her. Ylva gathered up the chest piece and began the process of putting it on him. The cuirass opened on one side. She closed it over his chest by feeding his arm through the far loop then holding it together.

When it was on, she began the process of tying the two sides together. Ylva's fingers and nails tickled as they worked against Brian's side just below his left armpit. Her hands were strong, yet her touch delicate. Brian did his best to suppress the shiver that went down his spine. He was mostly successful.

"This part takes the longest because there are so many ties," Ylva said as she worked. "The secret is to put the knots on the inside so there's no gap to cut through."

"You really know a lot about armor," Brian commented.

"I should hope so." Ylva chuckled, and moved on to the next string. "I'm a HEMA instructor by trade, and a Viking reenactor in my spare time, so I spend a lot of time in armor. More than the average person, for sure."

Historical European Martial Arts, the use of surviving medieval sources to recreate how armed combat would have been conducted during those times. Brian had heard of it before, and had a passing interest, but never met someone who was actually involved. He had a million questions, none of which seemed important.

While he was ruminating over all this, Ylva moved down a string. The cuirass became tighter with each loop she fastened. It didn't feel as though it would restrict his movement much, but the weight pressing against his chest made it notably harder to breathe.

Ylva made short work of the third string and moved on to the last two. As she tied them, Brian noticed the chest piece remained mostly the same level of tightness. Maybe he was wrong, but perhaps the double layer on the upper chest made it feel more constructive. Thankfully, there was someone in the room who would probably know the answer. Before he could ask, she finished tying.

"Alright, you can put your arms down, now," she said with a small step away. Brian did as he was told with a silent sigh as blood flowed back into his fingers. "I'll do the pauldrons, then move on to the rest."

The pauldrons went on quick. Each piece simply folded over a shoulder and fastened to the chest with two ties on each side, for a total of four each. Brian kept silent during this part, both because he had nothing to say, and also because there wasn't really time to make conversation.

When the shoulders were done, Ylva got down on one knee. Brian's heart leapt into his throat for a moment and he looked away from the girl kneeling in front of him. She leaned forward so her head was more level with his mid thigh and behind him, rather than in front.

The left shin guard went on, and Ylva got to work on it. There were only three strings in the back of these, so she'd probably be done in no time. All the better, really.

Silence threatened once again, which Brian found odd. Ylva came off as gung-ho back in the armory proper, so why was she quiet now? Maybe she was just focused on her task, but Brian didn't buy that. She had no problem with conversation while fastening the cuirass, and that was a much more complex task.

Which raised another question: Why even bother with all of this in the first place? Why go out of her way to help, when mostly everyone else was more concerned with themselves? Brian only helped Tiffany because she asked. Ylva offered her services without prompting, to the point where Brian thought she was an NPC for a second. There hadn't been a single mention of their situation from her, not even offhand, almost as if she didn't care. But, maybe there was more to it. Since she was trying to hard to help him, the least he could do was return the favor.

"Hey, Ylva," Brian began. "If you don't mind me saying, you're taking all of this really well."

"I don't mind," she said, and then sighed. "I don't know. The way I see it, this is either a dream or a dream come true. If it's a dream, then I'll wake up soon, no harm done. If it's not a dream, why would I ever want to wake up?"

"You don't want to go home?"

"Of course I do." Ylva finished with the right guard and moved on to the left. "At the same time, who hasn't wanted to live in their favorite fantasy world?"

"Something tells me Tiffany hasn't," Remarked Brian. They both had a chuckle at that.

Ylva continued. "I just think, if we're gonna be here anyway, and we've signed some magical contract or whatever, we might as well do our best. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think 'doing our best' means embracing the world as it is."

"Yeah, I think I understand that." Brian had been thinking mostly the same thing, so he saw where Ylva was coming from.

Ylva finished the last schynbald, gathered up the bracers, and stood. Without prompting, Brian held up his hands palm-down. Ylva flipped them to palm-up. She balanced a bracer on each and started with the right. When finished with both, she took a step to the opposite side of the stall. Brian fed his war hammer through a loop on his belt, then slung the heater shield over his back with the strap across his chest. With that last piece, his look was complete.

"Now there's a proper warrior if I ever saw one," Ylva said with a smile.

Brian dug the holy symbol from behind his shirt. "Cleric, actually."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know I was dealing with a holy man," Ylva joked. "Please forgive me."

"You are forgiven." Brian let the symbol fall against his armor.

"Bahamut is a good choice, though. If you're gonna serve a God, might as well go for the King of the Dragons," commented Ylva.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking." That, and it was the only one he could find, but Brian left out that detail.

"So, are you ready to go back out, or do I need to convince you?"

"No I'm good," Brian said. "Lead the way."

"Gladly."

Ylva took point out of the changing stall. Brian fell in behind her, more ready than ever to join the Guild. Hopefully he was put in the same party as Ylva. Having an already experienced fighter on his side sounded like a massive advantage. Whatever happened, Brian felt as though he could face it with at least a modicum of pride. Amazing what a little armor could do.