Thalmoor – Civil Hall
Episode 2: Paperwork and Protagonism
The Civil Hall loomed like a forgotten museum, all red banners and solemn stone pillars, its steps worn down by the boots of centuries. It wasn't grand by castle standards, but it had presence—the kind that told you it housed clerks more powerful than kings. The kind of place where a missing signature could get you arrested faster than murder.
Jax pushed open the thick oak doors and stepped into a blast of warmth and parchment dust. Inside, the air was a strange mix of candle wax, drying ink, and bureaucratic resentment.
A clerk's desk stood front and center, manned by a half-elven woman in round spectacles whose expression had fossilized into "mild irritation" sometime around the last empire.
She didn't even look up.
"State your name and intent, traveler."
"Jax. Just Jax," he said, stepping forward. "Looking to register. Residency or something close enough to legal."
She flicked a quill, dipped it in ink, and slid a thick scroll onto the desk in one fluid motion.
"Intent of stay?" she asked.
"Work. Adventure. Culinary experimentation. Existential wandering."
"That's not a category."
"Then put 'all of the above.'"
She sighed, and her quill moved in curt strokes. "Weapons carried?"
"Staff, sword, and... some creative tools."
"Occupation?"
He smirked. "Depends on the day. But let's go with Marksman, Swordmaster, and Master Chef."
The clerk paused mid-quill, squinting at him as if trying to figure out whether to laugh or detain him.
"…Master Chef."
"I can flambé a wyvern tail while disarming a bandit with a dinner fork."
She stared.
"I'm... very dynamic," he offered.
With a resigned breath, she resumed writing.
"You'll need to be categorized under Multi-Class Auxiliary. That means you're not bound to a guild, but your licenses must be renewed monthly. You'll also need combat and culinary certifications signed by an official examiner. Pass rates are... variable."
"Sounds like a fetch quest with extra bureaucracy."
She handed him the parchment.
"Take this form to Room 3B for skill alignment, then to Room 7A for provisional ID. Do not skip steps. Do not barter with the examiners. And if anyone offers you a glowing contract—walk away."
Jax gave her a cheeky salute. "You've been lovely."
"I've been adequate."
Room 3B – Skill Alignment
Room 3B smelled like chalk, magic, and regret. A giant arcane crystal hovered in the center of the room, pulsing softly. A hunched examiner in wizard robes motioned Jax to stand within a summoning circle etched into the floor.
"State your declared proficiencies."
"Marksman. Swordmaster. Master Chef."
The examiner blinked. "That's... ambitious."
"I multitask."
The circle lit up as the crystal scanned him. Magic shimmered, glyphs whirled, and a disembodied voice echoed:
"Skill Alignment Confirmed. Potential Profile: Adaptive Hybrid. Proficiency Modifier: 87%. Notable Trait: Improvisational Combat Cooking – Approved."
"…That's a thing?" the examiner asked.
"I once made stew with lightning and an orc femur."
"…Approved."
He was handed a stamped scroll, embossed with an official city seal and a tiny golden fork symbol in the corner.
Room 7A – Provisional ID
Room 7A had the energy of a DMV staffed by dungeon masters. A tired half-orc scribbled notes while chewing on the end of his quill.
"Name?"
"Jax."
"Guild?"
"None."
"Title?"
"…Master Chef."
The half-orc gave him a look, but didn't argue. After a few minutes of stamping, chanting, and what might've been blood ink, the clerk handed over a thick parchment ID badge and a small bronze pin shaped like crossed utensils.
"Welcome to Thalmoor. You're now legally a resident. Don't kill anyone unless they start it."
"Define 'start it.'"
"If they cast a fireball, swing a weapon, or insult your stew."
Jax grinned. "Fair."
📱GROUP CHAT: JIGGLYPUFF'S
🟢 Status: Active
👥 Members: Jax, Alex, Riley, Kael, Dane (recently unbanned)
[JAX] 🧥📸 Image Attached – Provisional Thalmoor Residency Card
"Got my papers. Registered under Marksman, Swordmaster, and Master Chef. Apparently, I'm now an Adaptive Hybrid with combat-cooking perks. I am become Gordon Ramsay of the Blade."
[ALEX] ⚙️"Impressive. Hybrid classes usually mean flexible leveling. Be careful you might attract guild recruiters or nobles looking for court chefs."
[KAEL] 💪"MASTER CHEF?! Bro, make me a stew that can knock out a troll. Add gunpowder. Call it 'Boom Soup.'"
[DANE] 🔥"You better make me a steak that screams when I eat it. You promised violence and seasoning."
[RILEY] 🎮"Nice. I'm busy doing... Goblin Things™ right now. Can't talk. Will report back once i finish some my task."
[JAX]"Why are your Goblin Things™ always potentially apocalyptic?"
[RILEY]"Because I believe in efficiency. And chaos. Talk soon."
______
As Jax exited the Civil Hall, the wind hit his face again—warm, real, and unscripted.
He pinned his bronze ID badge to his cloak, adjusted his gear, and looked back at the city.
Residency: secured. Paperwork: survived. Next up?
Sword-girl with trauma. Or maybe just lunch.
Jax grinned.
"Time to cook up some destiny."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jax stepped out of the Civil Hall, squinting slightly as the afternoon sun spilled golden across the cobbled streets. A fresh tag now hung from his belt—a simple brass token etched with his name, residency status, and accepted classifications: Marksman | Swordmaster | Master Chef. The clerk had raised a brow at the combination, especially the last one, but had stamped the forms anyway with a resigned grunt.
Apparently, Thalmoor didn't judge. Much.
"Officially registered," Jax muttered, spinning the token on his finger once before clipping it back to his belt. "Guess I'm a real boy now."
The city stretched in all directions—stone streets sloped uphill and downhill, threading between buildings of stone and timber, most of them two or three stories high with slanted roofs and laundry lines. Bells chimed faintly in the distance, maybe from a temple or a clocktower. The air was thick with smells: roasted meat, fresh-baked bread, and... was that ink and parchment?
Jax's stomach growled.
He followed the smell of food first.
Market Row was madness.
Stalls jostled for space, traders yelling over one another in a dozen accents. A halfling hawked smoked boar sausages the size of Jax's arm. A lizardfolk stirred bubbling red stew from a cast-iron cauldron. A dwarven vendor grilled flatbread slathered in what looked like molten cheese and pickled onions. The entire place felt like a sensory ambush.
Jax snagged a skewer of mystery meat, handed over a few bronze shards, and kept walking while chewing. It did slap.
He glanced at his wrist again—his GMod wrist-link flickered faintly to life. Still minimal interface. Still tethered to reality. Somehow.
📱Group Chat: JIGGLYPUFF'S
Status: Active
Members: Jax, Alex, Riley, Kael, Dane (recently unbanned)
[JAX] 🧥"Market Row = edible chaos. Smells amazing. Might buy spices just to flex."
[KAEL] 💪"If they got ghost pepper equivalents, BRING 'EM BACK."
[RILEY] 🎮"Scan and store some herb samples if your inventory still supports it. Never know what's potion-grade or edible in these planes."
Jax let the link fade out again, his hand automatically drifting to a pouch at his side. Still plenty of inventory space, though his Garry's Mod-styled "tool gun" wasn't functioning in any visible way. Yet.
A few moments later, he spotted a smithy—not just for weapons, but full metalwork. He watched in fascination as a blacksmith quenched a red-hot sword into a trough and then immediately began sharpening it against a whetstone that hummed with embedded enchantment runes.
"Crafted AND buffed," Jax murmured. "That's efficient design."
He peeked inside—armor sets on display, from light leather to full plate, all hand-crafted. A sign above the forge read:
GULDAN'S IRON & GLORY — Blacksmiths to the Adventuring Elite
He marked the location mentally. That'd be worth returning to.
Past the market and up a gently rising slope, Jax found himself in a quieter district. The buildings grew neater, more ornate. Ivy crept along stone walls. Windows were glazed instead of open. The people here spoke in hushed tones, and the occasional floating lantern bobbed by overhead, trailing faint blue light.
Here, nestled between a fountain and a marble columned building, he spotted a shop front:
THE WAX & WARDTomes. Scrolls. Arcana. Forbidden Texts (with permit).
Jax raised a brow.
"Alright, Hogwarts."
Inside, it smelled like dust and secrets. A woman with translucent glasses and ink-stained gloves gave him a disinterested look before returning to a floating scroll that unraveled midair and folded itself with a flick of her wrist.
Jax browsed. Titles ranged from Binding Runes and You to The Quantum Fold: Theoretical Magics of Multiversal Anchors. A tome labeled "Curses for Beginners: How to Make Your Enemies Itch and Die" caught his attention, but he kept walking.
In a glass case, a sealed book pulsed faintly with a red glow. Its cover bore a silver rune that tickled his eyes when he looked too long.
Jax wisely stepped away.
[JAX Note-to-Self]Do not touch glowing books. Especially red ones. Especially when they're humming.
Before sunset, Jax ended up near what locals called Guild Alley—a wide boulevard lined with banners representing Thalmoor's various guilds.
He passed the Silver Arrows (Rangers), the Iron Table (Mercenaries), and the Guild of the Glutted Stag—a Chef's Guild.
That one caught him off-guard.
Inside the Stag's guild hall, a heavyset elf with sauce-stained cuffs was berating a younger chef about underseasoned pheasant. Spices danced in the air—cumin, paprika, something citrusy and sharp.
When Jax asked if they accepted freelance chefs, the elf gave him a once-over, then blinked at the residency token.
"Master Chef? Hah. Brave claim, stranger."
Jax smirked. "Got a fire crystal, a whole trout, and exactly one ego to feed."
The elf raised a brow. "Prove it tomorrow. High noon. Iron Kitchen. Loser does dishes for a week."
Jax nodded. "You're on."
As night bled slowly into the streets, lanterns lit themselves with soft golden glow. Bards began tuning lutes. Windows flickered with hearthlight. The city didn't sleep—but it exhaled.
Jax sat on the edge of a fountain in a circular plaza, unwrapping what looked like a cinnamon swirl the size of a plate. He took a bite. It was warm, flaky, and criminally good.
He opened the group chat one more time.
📱Group Chat: JIGGLYPUFF'S
🟢 Status: Active
👥 Members: Jax, Alex, Riley, Kael, Dane (recently unbanned)
[JAX] 🧥"Civil Hall registration done. City explored. Got a cooking duel scheduled tomorrow with an elf. Found a cursed book. Didn't touch it. Yet."
[RILEY] 🎮"You're evolving. I'm proud. Don't let the kitchen elf beat you."
[KAEL] 💪"PUNCH THE CAKE SO HARD IT BECOMES A SOUFFLÉ."
[ALEX] ⚙️"Keep logs on everything. If magic integration is stable, we may be able to replicate the process and link-in through another breach."
[DANE] 🔥"I FOUND A RUNE THAT SCREAMS WHEN YOU LICK IT."
[JAX] 🧥"Of course you did."
The fountain burbled behind him.
The city breathed.
And Jax, in the middle of it all, felt something new and rare.
Not just thrill.
Belonging.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"BOOORRRIINNNGGGG!!!!"