The nameless mouse quickly learns a fundamental difference between life in a small town versus life in the big city. In a small town, everyone notices the weird stranger. In a big city, you're just another weird stranger who nobody notices. She walks down the road, looking from side to side at the boisterous shop-keeps selling wares from their booths, regularly shouting jeers at their competitors which vary between angry and good humored (still coming from a spiteful place, but the appearance of good humor remains, and that's all that really matters). She works to avoid the crowds of people, keeping her head downcast. As oppressive as the massive open space was, it's nothing compared to the noisy claustrophobia of this crowd. Every once in a while a mouse will bump into her, some apologizing, many expressing annoyance, but each time they get a look at her face, namely her eyes, she expects alarm bells to sound out. This never happens, however. They look with expressions which vary between frightened and disgusted, but rather than make a scene, they do the rational thing one does when faced with something disturbing to look at: they look away, pretending to have never seen her.

Many of the booths clearly have food for sale, which is apparently traded for other varieties of food, in a rather confusing system she can't make much sense of. A problematic one in her view as well. How exactly does one manage to eat if you need food to get food? She wishes she had kept her belt, or retrieved her club from the battle of the previous evening. At least maybe she could barter something for them, although she can't imagine getting very much, considering their poor quality. As she continues to move through the crowd, down the market street, some more elaborate shops come into view. Upon the display tables are an assortment of weapons, armors and well crafted tools and clothing. Well, well crafted by her standards. Within the village, everything was very rudimentary. You might wrap yourself in some cloth to keep warm or help camouflage you, and most weapons were crudely carved wood. There were a few more elaborate objects, of course, such as the weapons and armor wielded by her former comrades, as much good as those did, but now that she thought about it, she'd heard that some of the villagers had gone away to trade for them. Perhaps they'd gotten them here? The items, as questionably useful as they were, were certainly heads and tails above the sort of things she could even dream of making.

Looking around, the mice were all considerably better dressed than she was used to as well. Even in her former home, most of them wore some variety of clothing, but here everyone wore, well... real clothes. Actual capes and shirts and robes, occasionally even things like pants and shoes, gloves and hats. Items which seemed to serve no practical purpose at all, yet were made by someone and clearly desired enough to be purchased by another. Just over to her left is a pair which can only be described as exquisitely dressed, even if they can only be described that by the nameless mouse's own fashion starved sensibilities.

The first is a woman who stands behind an ornate wooden booth. She is a good deal younger than herself, although her age is difficult to determine. A clean and well-groomed mouse always looks a little younger, and the fur on this one is downright immaculate, practically shining deep silver, with black streaks and spots beautifully woven throughout it. Upon her snout sits a pair of large metal spectacles which make her green eyes look downright massive, even as they look to the other mouse with an impatient expression. She wears a fine white blouse, a brighter white than the nameless mouse had ever seen, completely devoid of stains even in this rather grubby place, and long black pants which go down practically to her toes. Her tail has a small metal bangle set at the middle of it, which shimmers as said tail twitches angrily, her furless fingers and toes are similarly lined with small yet tasteful rings set with gemstones. As she flicks a round, pale ear, a similar pair of bangles dangle from it which softly chime against one another.

"As I've already told you, the quest is only worth twenty-one experience points." she says, her lovely voice a symbol of practiced professionalism, where hardly a hint of the obvious annoyance she feels manages to slip through.

"Seriously? Twenty-one points? Last week it was worth three hundred!" the young man replies.

This mouse is well armored. Well, perhaps not as heavily armored as Amon, may he rest in peace, but certainly more fashionably armored. Rather than a full body suit, he wears a simple breastplate along with small shoulder pauldrons and a set of metal bracers on wrists and ankles, each piece of them clearly heavily polished (although clear hints of the many dings and scratches of past use are still visible. Those sorts of things can't be simply cleaned away). A simple helmet sits on his light grey furred head, mostly cloth with small pieces of metal fastened to the assorted bands which run between his eyes, and down along each side of his snout, dangling near his mouth. A bright red cape is draped from his shoulders, which shows just as much effort towards maintenance as he the armor. Unfortunately, however, in a place like this, cloth is much harder to keep clean, and the ghosts of old stains, especially near the hem of it which drapes behind him and regularly catches the uneven mud of the ground are very much visible. At his belt is a long sword, impressive in appearance at being made of multiple materials: A wooden handle and guard, wrapped in brown cloth, with a carved blade of transparent uncolored plastic jutting out of it, appearing quite sharp by mouse standards. Upon his back is a wooden shield, carved into a sort of diamond-pentagon pattern, with clear efforts to maintain the symmetry of it. Occasionally he manages to look almost handsome, but it's clear it requires a great deal of work compared to the effortless poise and beauty of the woman. Clearly most of this is due to his gear, however, and without it he would look rather plain and boyish. Even when he tries to match her displeasure, there's clear cracks in his expression and words showing him to be well out of his element when it comes to verbal debate.

"We've been over this." the woman replies, pushing her spectacles back up towards her eyes. There's no clear tether around the back of her head or around her snout, and she seems able to balance them there without worry of dropping them with no effort at all. "They're called 'experience points' for a reason. They're based on unique experiences. You can't simply grind the same mobs and repeat the same fetch-quests and expect to properly advance." she says, looking to him with a steely expression that shows she's already bored of his presence. "You need to get out there, make some real accomplishments if you want to improve."

"Fine, fine... so, twenty-one points. How much until I level up?" he asks, softly grumbling, arms folded across his armored chest.

"Actually, it's seventeen points. There's the ten percent experience service charge. As for your progress to your next level, this will put you at..." her annoyed expression fades, replaced with one that is no less serious as she works out the advanced calculations in her head. "Ah yes, you are currently at 2225 out of 4000, which will take you from level six to seven."

It is important to note, for those who might not be aware, that mice use a base-eight numbering system, based on the number of fingers they have on their forelimbs. Somewhat ironically, under this system the number 'eight' does not exist, nor does 'nine' of course. From 7, it goes straight to 10, which is, of course, one unit of eight with zero remainder. The mice, naturally, don't call this number 'ten', but seeing as how they don't actually speak in a tongue intelligible to humans, and the word they do use is difficult to translate from assorted toned squeaks, we'll just go with 'ten' for the sake of simplicity. This pattern continues with higher numbers, with '77' being the largest two digit number before reaching '100'.

"That's ridiculous!" the white furred man shouts, pounding his fist against the table. The woman doesn't seem the least bit moved by this, one way or the other. "That'll take forever! This whole system is garbage!"

At those words, however, the well dressed woman's expression goes cold. "The system is flawless, and you're lucky that a no-talent like you has the opportunity to use it to grow at all. Your lack of advancement stems from low ambition and a lack of natural aptitude on your end. You can't simply dress the part and copy others and expect to end up some legendary hero. If that was all that it required, everyone would be one. You need something special, something exceptional, something like... something like..." her eyes gleam as she looks up at the nameless mouse who stands to the side watching with a confused expression, unable to make any real sense out of their discussion. "Ooh, something like that! You, come here, please!"

The naked cream-furred mouse looks to her left and to her right, searching for who the strange woman behind the booth is referring to. Finally, she points to herself, and receives an excited nod in return, along with an expression which is downright disturbing to her. It almost looks hungry.

"Hey, I'm not finished here! What's so special about her anyways?" the young man growls, turning to the nameless mouse. His eyes go wide, fur pale as he looks into her face. "Oh..."

The nameless mouse lowers her head, having forgotten to conceal her mark. Not that lowering her head does much, but it's marginally better than nothing. She doesn't quite know why, but she approaches anyways, even though she can't see how any of this is her business.

As for the silver woman behind the booth? She practically salivates at the sight of the cream-furred mouse. "Oh wow, a genuine curse-mark! These are extremely rare!" she says, her earlier expression of cold dignity completely abandoned.

"Wait, curse-mark? So... you've seen this before?" the nameless mouse asks. She had only come to this place to maybe feed and supply herself. She hadn't imagined that anyone here might know what is going on with her, when she doesn't even know herself.

"Of course!" the woman behind the booth says, before frowning. "Well, technically I've never seen this specific variety before. Hmmm..." she leans in closer, making the nameless mouse more than a little bit uncomfortable as she looks from one eye to the other, and focuses on the space between them. "No, this is an unusual one, but I've seen enough to know the general principle of it. Congratulations!"

The nameless mouse blinks. It doesn't feel like something called a 'curse mark' is something to be congratulated for. "Um... thanks?" she says, her head tilted slightly in confusion.

"Ah, I see you're unfamiliar. No surprise, such things aren't exactly common knowledge. A curse mark is traditionally a curse granted by a greater being. It offers greatly increased strength as it allows you to tap into a portion of that higher beings power. Not only physical strength, of course, it can come with magical abilities, the power to command mice and beasts, increased speed, resistance to hunger, fatigue and illness. Suffice to say, it is extremely powerful." Helena, the head of the adventurers guild replies. That is, of course, her name even though she hasn't been properly introduced yet. Much easier this way, rather than dealing with so many nameless creatures at once.

"Oh, well... that's good?" the nameless mouse says, head still tilted, not entirely convinced. "Why is it called a curse mark then?"

"Oh, that's because it will eventually kill you. Or devour your soul. Or just make you go crazy. Or turn evil. It varies. Something really unpleasant anyways. Usually will kill you, but as to whether your body stays dead, and nothing else takes it over? Well, that's another matter entirely." Helena replies.

"Oh... that's... less good.." the nameless mouse shakes her head, not really sure what to do with this new information. She can't say she's particularly surprised, however. She was pretty skeptical of the idea that what happened to her was beneficial. Its sort of nice to have confirmation.

"Yeah, that's a pretty rough location to get one, too." the well dressed woman says, pointing a grey ringed finger to the forehead of the other. "You see, they invariably grow in time and spread, damaging and changing the body as it does. Eventually, it will reach the heart or the brain, and, well, that's the end of that. Really, better the heart than the brain. The brain is one place that you really, really don't want strange energies messing around with. It's already pretty much there. It won't have to grow much further before it starts to cause serious damage."

"I... see..." the nameless woman says, a paw under her chin, deep in thought. "Is that why I can't remember my name?"

Helena flicks an ear up, resulting in another soft ring of the metal bangles. "Excuse me, I don't think I heard that properly... could you repeat yourself?" she says, her already more than interested expression ramping up even further.

"Um. I can't remember my name."

"That's fantastic!" the guild-woman says, slamming her paws on the surface of the booth, making the nameless mouse jump back a step. "Are you seriously telling me that you have both amnesia and a curse-mark?"

"Well, I don't really have amnesia. I remember everything except for my name. I think? I didn't know I'd even forgotten that until I really tried to think about it, so maybe there's other stuff I forgot, too?" the healer says, tilting her head to the other side. "Still, I remember who I am and where I came from and everything."

"I see, I see... well, it's still something." Helena nods quickly, her spectacles somehow not sliding off of her snout as she does.

"But... well, everyone seemed to forget who I was."

The guild-woman stops nodding. "Wow... that's... strange? Hmmm, this might be even better than full amnesia. Just a moment..." she says, as she pulls a heavy tome from a shelf under the surface of the booth, flipping through the pages. All the while the armored man looks on with fascination. "Let me see... potentially short lifespan giving a sense of urgency... partial amnesia... clearly troubled past... on the other hand, you're a little older than most..."

"I'm not that old..." the nameless mouse grumbles, bowing her head.

"Aha, here we go! Just as I thought! You are a perfect candidate for the ultra-rare 'protagonist' class!" the well dressed woman beams.

"Huh, isn't that a word to describe a character in a story?" the man suddenly speaks up. Helena looks to him with mild annoyance.

"Well, where do you think that word came from? It's used to represent a person of great power and significance. The sort which brings forth great tales and stories! Impressive deeds, memorable allies and often terrible tragedies follow such a person around wherever they go!" the woman beams, looking back to the nameless mouse, practically drooling. "You're the first one I've ever seen! Sure, we've had the occasional heroes and champions, but never anyone who's ticked off enough of the requirements to qualify as a proper protagonist! Congratulations!"

"Um. Thank you?" the nameless mouse says, tilting her head even further. On one hand, she feels like she should just walk away. On the other, it does seem rather rude, and someone showing interest in her might be a good first step to acquiring some food. That said, she'd rather have at least some levels of this nonsense be softened a little bit. "Sorry, I don't know what any of this means. What's a 'class'?"

Helena blinks, looking to her with surprise before she chuckles. "Ah, I see, you're clearly new at this. Are you an outsider by any chance?"

"Yes?" the nameless mouse replies hesitantly, uncertain of how others might react to that fact.

"Ah, well that explains a lot. Also another check-mark for class approval." she clears her throat. "Alright, I'll give a simple explanation. All adventurers are divided into classes, like warriors, thieves, wizards, clerics and the like. Your class is, to a small extent, chosen but certain more exotic ones have pre-requisites. Some are based on natural talents, some are based on your own skill-set and experiences, and some are based on more rare conditions. These classes, along with ones natural aptitudes, compatibility and disposition determine the nature and rate of ones growth."

The naked mouse nods, although the explanation so far offers more questions than answers.

"From there comes the experience point system, managed by the adventurer's guild, and invented and refined by yours truly." she smiles proudly. "This system is a way to quantify ones growth. Achieving a small goal results in a small boost. A large goal a more significant reward. As per the name, of course, the more varied and significant the experiences are, the greater the rewards. Once you reach a certain threshold, you level up, and as you level up, you improve based on your class. A warrior, for instance, might find their strength and endurance enhanced. A thief might find themselves quicker and more agile. A mage more cunning and with improved memory and problem solving."

"I... see..." the nameless mouse lies. In truth, this all feels rather counter-intuitive. Sure, from swinging a sword around, one might grow more skilled with it, and even strengthen their muscles, but it's not in quite as linear and direct a fashion. Similarly, it's not simply from general experiences. To improve your physical body, you should need to do physical jobs. General experiences can maybe improve your mental state, to an extent, but again, it's much more complicated than simply accomplishing a task and automatically becoming smarter.

"Now, as for the protagonist class, well, that's an exceptional one. You will see massive statistical gains, across the board, along with several significant perks. One such perk is known as 'plot armor'..." Helena says.

The male mouse raises an eyebrow at this, clearly tempted to make some observation and likely not a positive one, but a cold side-eye from the head of the adventurer's guilt shuts him up before he can even open his mouth.

The silver mouse continues, able to tell from the older woman's expression alone that it's needed. Normally, this would be a source of annoyance, but she's too excited to let the minor frustrations that this occupation entails bring down her mood. "That skill represents a certain good fortune. It means that things which might normally hurt or kill you simply will not."

"So... I can't be hurt or killed?" the nameless woman asks, all the more confused with trying to reconcile this fact with her own curse-mark.

"It's not nearly that powerful. You're not immortal, you're just lucky. You sometimes hear about people dying from a simple bump on the head, or catching sick without warning, or a piece of metal overhead giving way at just the wrong time and crushing them, right?" all three of the mice reflexively look up to the rusted catwalks above, which don't look very sturdy. "Um, anyways, those sorts of things won't affect you. Or are at least far less likelt to. It can make you lucky in battle, and make things more likely to go your way, as well, but if you make a serious mistake, or find yourself in an incredibly dangerous situation? Well, even with the skill, there will be significant consequences. Still, it's not a trivial boon!" she says with a smile. "Beyond that, you have the potential to master virtually any combat skill, from weapons to magic of all sorts. You can also wear any type of armor or gear without penalty. Also, both you and any allies who travel with you will gain a massive boost to experience point rewards from both combat and quests..."

"Wait, did you just say a massive experience point boost?" the male mouse says, eyes wide. There would be the equivalent of dollar signs in his eyes, if experience points had such a symbol associated with them.

"This has nothing to do with you." Helena grumbles to him. "Now, all you need to do is sign up to become a member of the adventurers guild! It will only require a one-time investment of two hundred crumbs!"

At this point the male mouse slams a small brown pouch down onto the table. "I'll cover my new partners expense!"

Helena pushes it away. "I'm sure she can afford it herself." she says before pausing, looking the woman up and down. Aside from the significant curse-mark spread across her forehead, she wears no clothing of any kind and holds nothing in her paws. There's no clear signs of where she would hold any sort of currency. "Um... you do have money, right?"

"I don't even know what 'money' is!" the nameless woman exclaims, suddenly feeling very anxious. Too much attention and too much information coming into her at once has left her on the verge of shutting down entirely.

"Well then, it's settled! I'll cover my adventuring comrades costs, and she'll help me make a name for myself. Everyone wins!" he smiles both to the woman and to the newcomer, although only briefly before he's forced to look away from the strange scar in her fur and her downright alien looking eyes.

"Wait, wait!" the nameless woman says, holding her paws out in front of her. "Who said I want to be an adventurer?"

"You have to!" the other two shout in unison, making the naked mouse back up another few steps.

"This is a rare occurence which you need to take advantage of, especially given your current condition!" the adventurer guild head says in a quick and excited manner, leaning in close to her. "That mark of your means that you have little time, but are still destined to achieve something great! That means that whatever you're going to do, you need to start quick!"

"Yeah, you've got to help me become a proper hero! Not only will I gain more experience, but it's an opportunity to go on a real quest, not one of the pointless and unrewarding little errands posted around town!" the man says, before realizing that might not be the best approach. "Oh, um, and there's also a chance that through adventuring you'll find a way to cure that curse... thing. That's possible, right?" he directs that last part to the guild-master, even as he also leans in uncomfortably close to the nameless mouse.

"Indeed! Such grand quests are filled with answers to mysteries and the opportunities to achieve power, both in combat and otherwise! You can learn much more about yourself and the world around you, including the means to cure sickness and unnatural afflictions! Worst case scenario, you're a tragic heroine, and serve as a proud example to others!" Helena leans in closer still.

"Yeah! Um, except for that tragic heroine stuff. That's just another word for 'loser'. You work hard and stick with me, and there won't be any tragedies. You need to accomplish something, I'll help you do it. That's what being a hero is all about!" he leans closer still, the pair crowding the already anxious mouse woman to an awkward degree. "Come on, what do you have to lose? There has to be something you want to achieve, right?"

The nameless naked mouse looks between the pair to the piercing green light an indeterminable distance away. All she knows is that it's significantly closer than it was this morning.

"Okay." she says, "I'll... I'll do it."

"Excellent! We have an agreement!" Helena claps her paws and beams. "I know you won't regret this decision!"

"Yup! You agree I'll be your team-mate, and in exchange, I'll cover your guild membership expenses!"

The well dressed woman glowers at him. "Ugh, fine, whatever. At least you'll keep him out of my hair."

"Great! Pleased to meet you! I'm Frederich, the mighty!" he smiles, putting his open paw out towards the naked mouse. "Friends call me Frederich... the mighty!" he clearly adds the last part seemingly as a last minute decision. It leads the cream colored mouse to question whether his friends, or any one else actually call him that. The disappointed look of the guild-master all but verifies this theory.

"Um... right. I'm... I guess I don't have a name." the naked mouse says sheepishly. "I don't really need one."

"You've got to have a name! Names are important! Especially for a great hero! How are people supposed to share your great deeds if they can't call you anything?" he asks, shaking his head. "They can't just call you 'the nameless' mouse. That will get tiring really quick!" he adds. He isn't wrong.

"Whatever. Just pick anything, and we'll go with that. I don't care." the nameless mouse says. See what I mean?

"Ooh, okay... hmmm... something cool and mysterious... I know! We'll call you 'X'!" Frederich says in an excited voice.

"Fine." X says and she turns, ready to step away. She freezes in place, paws balled into fists, shoulders shaking. "No... no, I don't want to be called that. It sounds stupid."

"You just said you didn't care." Fred replies.

"Apparently, I do care the tiniest bit, and you managed to somehow cross that threshold." she says with a sigh, a general sense of mental fatigue starting to set in. She's so done with this.

"Okay, okay, I guess I can come up with something different. Something similar, nice and simple until you get your real name back. How about K? Ooh, even better, Kay?" he says, clearly quite pleased with himself.

"Didn't you just say the same thing twice?" the mouse formerly known as X asks. "Anyways, yeah, that's fine. If you need to call me something, I suppose Kay will do."

"Very good. By my right as guild master, I hearby declare the new adventurer, Kay, as a level one protagonist, with zero experience points. You will require 100 points to reach level two." Helena says, rapidly writing down notes in her log book.

"Yeah, that's great..." Kay says with a sigh. She's gotten over the anxiety from the high-energy situation, and her usual indifference has started to set in.

Frederich hmms to himself, taking a step away, looking her up and down. "You look a little scrawny for unarmed combat. Can you throw a punch?"

"What? No, I don't think so." she says, thinking on one hand, it doesn't sound very difficult, but on the other, she's never done it before. Punching things doesn't sound very appealing, however, not that much of what's going on right now does.

"We'd better pick you up a weapon and some armor, too. Guess some food wouldn't hurt, either."

"I'm not hungry." Kay grumbles. Her stomach takes that very moment to audibly to do same. She isn't really sure why she lied, her whole point to coming to this city was to get fed after all. Still, she was annoyed at how ever since she came here, bizarre things seemed to happen which she has little control over.

"Heh, yeah, we'll get you something to eat, too. Need you at your full strength to support my rise to becoming a legendary hero!" he grins. She looks to him with confusion. Isn't he supposed to be helping her? She hopes she'll be able to ditch him soon, as she has no intention of dragging a stranger, one she can already tell is virtually incapable of stopping talking, all the way to... to... wherever it is she's going. She honestly has no idea what her objective is, just that she knows she has to achieve it. The fact that she might have little time left doesn't wear on her mind in the slightest.