[System]
Level: 1
Class: Mercenary/Thug (novice)
Currency: 99G, 39 bits
Ammunition: 44 arrows
Armor: +1, heavy leather

Vitality: 9/10
Status: normal

BASIC INFORMATION

Gender: Male
Age: 31
Race: Tork
Origin: Great plains of the Marth (nomadic, so no distinct location)
Religion(s): Su-Mar-Kaan, the council of nature spirits
Attire: Simple gray-white linen cloth, furs and boots for everyday life, armor for when it's needed.
Demeanor: Sarcastic, rough and reckless at times, but also honest and straightforward

ATTRIBUTES
Awareness: 2
Intelligence: 2
Strength: 3
Wit: 2
Dexterity: 2
Willpower: 3
Charisma: 1
Luck: 1

SKILLSETS
Archery: 3 (familiar weapon +2, archery +1)
Brawn: 2
Hand to hand: 2
Intimidation: 2
Knock-out: 1
Extortion: 1
Horseback riding: 1

FLAWS
Skarsat has a serious tendency to go forward without putting that much effort into planning ahead. It has gotten him into more trouble than would have been necessary to achieve his goals in the past and is bound to do the same in the future. Also his Tork nature and physiology brings its own bunch of major and minor problems with it, such as his unfamiliarity with the details of what many consider 'civilized' customs or his sheer, extraordinary size.

BACKGROUND
Skarsat was born into a tribe called 'The Vanyr' as one of three childs, two brothers and a sister, of his father Marrask and his mother Cafol. The tribe, just as many Tork, follows a lifestyle of never settling down too long in one place, and thus Skarsat's early life follows pretty much the story the average western or eastern citizen might tell about them: He learned how to ride from early on, soon had to help picking up and dissecting hunted down animals and then got trained in the art of archery himself. There was no such thing as a real settlement, just an allotment of tents that were placed down near water and then picked up again some days or weeks later when there were no more local resources to collect.

However there is a small twist to the Vanyr that ultimately forced Skarsat to learn the concept of town and cities after all. Each and every child, once having reached the age of 17, has to go on a two-year journey on his or her own that has to lead outside of the Tork's native soil and go either west or east, the further the better. It is there for them to learn about the world and to respect it and the others living in it, but of course also a test of both survival and character as noone is actually strictly obliged to return to the tribe. However those who don't are either assumed dead or, should it become known that they are still alive, scorned.

From that point of view Skarsat has failed the test. He tried to return, but life isn't easy and he got stuck in affairs that ultimately forged him into what he is now. However the Vanyr are just one tribe of many, and others might have entirely different views on things and not care about his past in the same way.

PERSONAL EFFECTS
* Simple linen cloth, fur and leather boots for everyday life.
* Heavy leather armor for those rugged times
* DMG: 1d8 + Strength
CRIT: 18-20 (X3)
RANGE: 110ft
* 39 common steel broadhead arrows (+1 to piercing damage)
* Bow and a makeshift quiver with some arrows, adjusted to his large size
* DMG: 1d3 + Strength
CRIT: 18-20 (X2)
RANGE: 5ft
* Leather bag for personal belongings that can't be carried otherwise, such as his spare coins

Dice campaign: roleplayerguild.com/campaigns/807

[User]
For the last couple of minutes, or rather for as long as the 'debate' between Solange and Nora had unfolded, Skarsat had done nothing but to remain on his seat and to continue eating. Nora's unexpected appearance, her orders and the fact that Solange had managed to suck the poor woman into yet another bloody mess of her making had actually saved Solange from a quite sudden and ferocious reaction of the Tork man, but demoted the latter to the role of a mere observer. A three-front war was going on in his mind, all participants being different parts and schools of thinking of himself.

The first was the rational one: He had been given a clear instruction to wake up the others, so he should obey so not to make a bad first impression and to prove helpful for the party overall. Also, given how Nora had cornered Solange on a chair and her facial expression, it seemed that she was already getting things under control and would give that other woman a lecture well deserved.

The second was the curious one: Solange had done more things wrong in a matter of minutes than he could ever have imagined previously, so what would come next ? That part wanted to stay, even if that would mean having to eat even more than the flabbergasting amount he already had just to have some kind of pretense. Solange was just bound to screw things up even more and in some way it was so ridiculous it was even funny!

The third one was responsible for rage: It wanted to do the exact same thing as the second one, but not out of curiosity and a good laugh but because it hoped that Solange would turn her attention back towards him and just give that one, absolutely blatant, unmistakable, perfect reason for him to jump onto the table, run at and jump at her like a wild beast and ruin more than just this morning's hairstyle of hers!

Unfortunately none of those three parts had shown any sign of winning the conflict. On the contrary: none had achieved even the slightest bit of a goal so far! He was still sitting here and waiting for his very own decision making...

Enough!

In a bold move, the rational part forged an uneasy alliance with rage: Maybe Nora would give Solange the lesson she derserved, but it would be Nora's lesson! So where was his lesson ? Could he really rely on Nora doing the dirty work for him and tell Solange that she had done wrong to him as well ? No, of course not! And if things went according to rage this Neh'miah would not need a personalized wakeup call after some special kind of Solange lesson anyway!

Skarsat got up and approached the two women, coming so close that probably at least Nora could feel the floorboards buckle beneath a pair of Tork feet. He looked down at Solange and some minor parts of his face twitched. Then the giant lowered himself so he could look her in the eyes more easily, letting go of a prolonged, albeit artificial, sigh. He folded his hands in front of his face and rubbed his nose. Like said... it was an uneasy alliance between rational and rage...

"Solange..." he started, rather calm at first. "So you think that handing someone a plate full of food because he asked for it equals 'feeding' that someone ? Or how did you suddenly get to this 'Shut up and feed me ?' thing." Quoting her, Skarsat also tried to mimic the voice of her words, but not without adding a lot of bitterness and personal disgust to his attempt. "Or, more generally asking... exactly what part of my drinking and chewing made you believe that I or anyone else in this room had actual interest in hearing your bedroom stories of personal superiority ?"

And now rage backstabbed the rational and took over, immediately commanding Skarsat's right hand to try and hit Solange's cheek hard while his left hand was given the order to approach her head from the other side to prevent her from just escaping in that direction. However even before he could see whether he'd hit her or miss her his speech continued. Now much, much louder:

"When we're in trouble, you run out of arrows and shout to me to hand you my quiver, will I then afterwards also just be one more petty man in the life of the great Solange who begged you to lie about the size of the thing between his legs ? You sound like you're the pinnacle of the world yet so far you've only spread doubt about your actual usefulness!

Oh and before your crazy mind even dares to think about it: You will never 'feed' me! Not with a spoon and not with your breast if that's what you're imagining! Your milk is spoiled by your arrogance!"

[Assistant]
For the briefest of moments, Solange thought that perhaps Skarsat was actually comforting her. She wiped away the traitorous tears with a flick of her finger and looked up to meet his gaze as he lowered himself to be almost face to face with her. She tried to muster up a flirty smile that faltered and slipped away through the floorboards as his words mocked her own. Solange caught a look in his eyes. Violent men wasn't something she dealt with often while working for Fontaine thanks to the protection she offered through the reputation of her enforcer alone, but there had been one altercation with a man from her hometown who happened to stop by the brothel. Unlucky that she was working that night, really. What were the odds? His eyes were forever burned into her mind. Skarsat's eyes didn't look so different.

If she went back the momentum would take her to the ground, so she ducked forward instead. If Solange was quick, Skarsat's hand would run through the waves of her hair and she could try to weasel out from under his arm. She wasn't quick enough. The smack echoed throughout the room as his hand smacked across Solange's cheek so hard that if not for his other hand to catch her she would've been knocked from the chair by the momentum of her head whipping. She bit down on her lip so hard that it bled; her pained scream twisted in her mouth and morphed into a defeated chuckle.

She squirmed in her seat and looked away from Skarsat, half her face covered by her hair where it had been knocked once he'd hit her, her cheek already changing like a chameleon to match it's reddish tone. A tear from her eyes lost a race to her chin against a droplet of blood from her lip. It was strange, but he didn't frighten her as much as Nora. Once the threat of violence was gone and all that remained was the pain it wasn't so bad. Pain was a dear, old friend.

"Thank you, love. I was being hysterical," she said softly, the same defeated tone she'd given to Nora just moments ago. However, unlike with the bandit woman she looked up at Skarsat, a shimmer in her eyes that wasn't the tears. There was a certainty to her that shouldn't have been there, an undeserved sense that she was coming out of this exchange on top. Striking her would have consequences, even if not immediate. She smiled at him, her teeth stained red with blood and lipstick. "Now, would you like to continue telling me about how I'm the one imagining putting you to my breast like a suckling babe, or is mommy's big boy going to wake up Neh'miah like he was told?"

[User]
So his hand had made her bleed. Good!

Not so good that this included the possibility than some of said blood, along with residual traces of cosmetic ingredients this damn woman certainly applied to her face every day, could have attached themselves to his palm. Skarsat had no real proof of that, but even without actually looking at his fingers he rubbed them against each other to get an estimation about how much of a smeary layer of shit there was on his skin. Otherwise though he just kept staring at Solange, his face being kinda stuck in a state of forced idling around because his mind was too busy thinking about...

Defeat. How could this woman just keep doing shittalk all the fucking time ? 'Suckling babe', 'mommy's big boy', 'like he was told...'... for a brief series of moments all these nasty little provocations just did not seem to have any impact because Skarsat was just too flabbergasted by the initial 'love' which had already announced a lot about her overall reaction. Then however, with some noticeable delay, he caught up with Solange's queue of insults.

"You know... I'm no arrogant fool like you who maintains an unshakeable belief in his own infallibility. I know that, despite my training and experience, some of my arrows can and will miss their intended target. I start to think that despite all the real hostiles we might encounter on this endeavour this might actually be a good message for you."

Having said this, Skarsat raised himself to his full height again and looked down at her for a second or two.

"Now if you'd like to turn this journey into a damned world of fear where a possibly growing number of people outright hates you, then just keep going!" Skarsat turned away from her, but not without trying to hit her foot with his own and put his full weight onto it. Upon success he'd express his regret, which of course would be entirely fake.


[System]
Nicknames: Joe-it-all
Joe is the son of the mechanic Arin Verona, working in Smith's rest, which allowed Joe to get to see a few NCs in his life while his father was working on them. He also picked up a bunch of scientific knowledge regarding engineering from him.
An old but still post-cataclysm computer was a gift for his 13th birthday; it only had a commandline interface, although it was possible for it to display and generate images. Especially the lack of a graphical user interface paved the way for Joe to learn much about computing with his remainder of a child's ability to learn complex systems quickly, given sufficient interest.
About two years ago the financial situation of the family got really bad, so Arin decided to sell Joe's computer. Unfortunatly without consulting him first. The very same day Joe noticed and snapped, punching his father in the head during the rage which lasted only a few seconds before he regained control. The force of the punch was great enough to break his hand and permanently damage his father's brain. As a result of the damage, Arin's long-term memory is unable to store new memories, although previous memories from before that day remain unaffected.Age: 26
Personality: Joe is usually the analytical type, using knowledge to his advantage. It is very hard to anger him, and if he is in a rage it only lasts for seconds, but during those seconds he is capable of anything, except staying calm and analytical.
height: 1.79m
normal weight, although closer to underwheight than to overwheight
pale as a vampireTactical preference/skills:Joe isn't really cut out for combat, mostly because his tendency to overanalize his situation lowers his reaction-time significantly; in some situations 2 seconds pass before he can react. As such he usually prefers to be in safe locations during a battle, being rather involved in communications, tactics or cyber-warfare(taking remote control of an enemy unit and the like). He is not a great tactitian despite his analytical nature though
Neural Plug Synchronization: NaN (Not a Number) [acts as 40% whenever the special case NaN is not specified]
Other things of note: NERD!!!
Code-Name: Swarm
Body-Plan: A general humanoid, although armored and handless. Where the hand would normally be is instead a currently unoccupied weapon or utility slot
Type/Quality: It acts as a ranged unit, taking out both grounded and airborn targets, preferably out of their range. Middling-low
* To ease targeting and target-prioritizing, the head is equipped if a more powerful radar, which can manually be focussed in any direction to increase its range in that direction a bit.
* The Swarm is equipped with 2 guidance systems:

	+ A cruise missile controller for precise strikes with single missles
	+ An IR-laser to aim at whatever a volley of heat-seekers shall target. The laser itself has not enough power to do any damage on its own
* The 22 missile launcher have a reload time of 40 seconds and it takes about 4 seconds to fire an entire volley of missiles.
* 1 Sys:VEKW-01.65 railgun
General Description: The Swarm Is a heavier, hunchbacked unit with an extreme focus on long range combat and defensive armaments. It features numerous long-range high mobility missile launchers, and it would have a high-powered plasma cannon in the waist, but that mount is currently unoccupied.
As well, the Swarm has an interesting backpack design suited for aerodynamics and in-atmosphere flight speed, effectively meaning that while it's slow as mollasses on the ground, its actually sort of fast in the air.
However, if the backpack was hit by a heavier weapon, due to speedy and shoddy construction, it does have a chance to damage the rest of the unit. Thus, the pilot should always point towards the enemy.

[User]
As the two got situated in, the environment of their virtual world changed once more into the actual mission. They were immediately greeted by a hill, a large Neural Combatant sized door built into it. There were two red points on the door, near the middle, just about the size of Blur's demolition charges.

James 'got on the radio' once more, "Alright! Just do what comes natural when breaching the facility. Not every route is as obvious as this one, and alternatives are always possible, just like a real facility. You have one hour and thirty minutes to clear out the entire area." James reassured them, "You're both good at this, so as I said.. Just do what comes natural, and keep your guard up?"

Movement could be heard from the other side of the door, faintly.

James got 'off the radio' and began taking notes on a clipboard she left near one of the podules, paying attention to the readings she got on a nearby console. "So, mind lending me an outsiders' perspective, Joe? About how naturally skilled would you say Eli is?"

James continued, "The records I've found around seem to imply she's either the second or third most attuned to NC piloting we have, would you agree with that?". While waiting for an answer, she began writing a few things down.

[Assistant]
On the other side of the planet, a lone mercenary was roaming the countryside in his Neural Combatant, on the run after a mission gone bad. Jan thought about how things had gone so wrong after his contract with New Anchorage had been voided.

Paragon contacted him about some contract or another he could take if he needed the money, which considering, he did. It was apparently something about Volkov raiding an important aerial shipping lane that Paragon used, but that was just a cover-up for a damn ambush. That was a few days ago, and he was still damaged and being slowly hunted.

It had been a while since the last contact with enemy units. Now seemed like a good time to slow down for a moment and consider his options. He couldn't keep running forever, either he'd run out of fuel or some lucky punk would come mop him up. He mentally ran through a list of his contacts… Who did he know that he could at least somewhat count on to come pull his ass out of the fire. Obviously not the megacorps. He was just a small fry and probably not worth the effort. It seemed he would have to count on a more minor faction. He considered what would motivate them, people didn't usually organize an evac operation out of charity. He opened his long-range comms console and input a channel code he knew all too well. It was the code he made a point of always sneaking into his past employers databases in case he ever needed to contact them covertly. The writeup he made was quick and concise but got the point across.

"Emergency evac needed out of paragon territory, offering 200K for the first person to call back with a reasonable outfit. Current location not included due to security risk." He considered the contract offer, it didn't bear any fancy seals or watermarks, so it was safe to assume quite a few would just throw it out as if it was junkmail. Still, out of all the people he had worked with over the years at least one or two might just be bored or desperate enough to respond. His long-range sensors suddenly sprang to life. It appeared two bogeys had entered his sensor range. The merc sent the message out without overthinking it any further and throttled Goldenspur's mighty thrusters. He wasn't privy to stick around to see who was sweeping the area.

 While leaving the sector, a third, and then even a fourth contact quickly came into the edge of his sensor range. He could just pick up that a radio conversation began to occur and that it was effectively unencrypted. He could silently join in to see who was talking and about what.

A 'tough guy' was the first to talk on the line, obviously angered, yet apparently intrigued. "So, you want him too, huh? Well he's mine, piss off. I'm not going to simply let you take him. What exactly makes you think you can just waltz here and catch him instead of me?"

A girl replied, "Ohh.. I don't want any trouble.. I'm just, erm, y'know. Interested in Jan. Can you please go? I have corporate backing, sort of.". She sounded like she barely had any idea what she was doing.

"Pfft..hahahahah! Who the hell is this? I can't even believe you're an NC pilot! What, did you just fall in the cockpit or something?"

She got a little angry. "Well.. Uhh… … I don't have time for this. Goodbye?". The fourth NC raised altitude while heading towards where she last detected the Goldenspur, before getting a bead apparently and heading right for him.

"Stupid… Eh, whatever. Alright boys, take them both out!". The three other contacts continued the pursuit of their original quarry.

[User]
"I can't really tell how much of her skill is natural, and what is the result training, however so far she has demonstrated what she can do. And yes, her synch rate is the highest natural rate in this team, at least as far as I know." Joe replied, slightly insecure, as he can't really judge how good someone is, all he could do is compare two people doing the exact same thing.

"I see… So, how did you all come to this, might I ask? I'm just curious." James smiled, "I mean, I'm going to help patch you up from now on if something goes wrong! I might as well get to know you guys a little more than the preliminary things, right?"

"I can't speak for the others, I may forget important details of their story. However, I am here as punishment for something stupid I did. It involved a punch breaking my hand, and my father's memory."

"...Oh…" For obvious reasons, she now seemed mildly suspicious. "Erm… are you…?"

"Am I what exactly? And no, no need to be too suspicious, it happened in a fit of extreme rage, I doubt you are capable of reawakening the beast."

"So you admit you have an anger problem? Well, there's that… What I meant was, y'know. You aren't like…", she turned a bit more sheepish, "A real criminal or something, right? Did you... murder somebody?"

"Depends on the definition of murder. If robbing someone of the ability to make any new memory is called murder, then yes; otherwise, no." Joe laughed awkwardly, attempting to lighten up the mood.

James laughed along, apparently appreciating the attempt. "Well, in any case… are you sure you didn't have anything wrong with you? That NaN and Infinity thing with your plug… I've never seen that personally before." She elaborated a little, "I've heard about it, but never seen it with my own eyes until now. Although, with the fact that everything still seems to work fine, I'm really not sure what it could be."

 "If there is something wrong with me, I am not aware of it. And what exactly did you hear about it?"

"Well, apparently a few years ago one archeological team or another dug records up at an NC facility of some sort. They were records related to some sort of … y'know, experimental plugs? And nets themselves too, the NC side of the whole system. The systems described were really icky, even for me. Basically sealing the pilot inside a special cockpit with an amniotic fluid like liquid. Their bodies dissolved as their nervous system fused with the craft completely!"

She seemed to shiver, "God, nobody needs or deserves that... In any case, the failed, and successful examples in the records had similar happenings occasionally. Maybe your plug was connected too well?"

"I don't know what would make someone knowingly sign up for that, but I do see why it might be needed by some. After all, a pure nervous system can be connected much better and in much more places, than the average plug. In addition, it does not require as much 'maintenance'. Excuse the technical term, but a nervous system by itself doesn't have all the needs of a human."

James rolled her eyes, "Man, you really did your homework. Maybe you aren't so bad as you seemed! And yeah, you really have some points there. About the 'maintenance' and more points to connect. Heh, where'd you learn that stuff anyway? I'm just well travelled myself, you don't seem to be that type. Love your local library or something?"

"Nah, my father was an NC mechanic, before...the incident that got me here. The rest is just extrapolating my knowledge onto the new hypothetical situation."

"Ahhhh, riiight."

[Assistant]
"In any case, I just found something better to do than watching my colleagues. I'll do some research on the findings of that archeological team you told me about, it might be helpful."
Joe left and headed for his room, the console with access to the corporate network should suffice for his research.

He got to his room without incident, the console started and connected without issue, but when he was about to type his search query Joe noticed he had forgotten to ask for the name of the archeologists, where the facility in question was located, or for that matter anything that would point at a source. However Joe also didn't want to walk back, interrupt James, and ask for that information, she was busy already. In addition he would likely encounter her again, and an archeological site doesn't just run away.

Thus Joe decided to just search for the vague topic, and didn't find anything too useful for his research, what a failure that was. Most of what he did find was a bunch of scam sites on how to quickly increase one's synch rate; great, just great.
Still, among the hundreds of scams and uninteresting unrelated results, he did find one old archive. It didn't contain what he was looking for, but he did stumble upon an article about what at the time of writing was called a 'sound cannon' by some, while others just called it plainly long range acoustic device.
Intrigued by the concept he decided to search the market for one, but to his disappointment, the market for NC parts contained nothing but the usual weapons.
Despite that he still found something, although it was on the normal electronics market: High powered speakers for 500 credits per speaker, with fitting control circuits for 1000 credits each.

After looking at his balance, he decided to purchase 2 control circuits and 200 speakers for 102000(2*1000+200*500) credits, about a third of his balance. In hindsight Joe felt sorry for the poor guy accepting parcels, he would have a hard time in a few days.


[System]
Age:
22

Appearance:
Jay is five-foot-eleven. Her lean form is set off by layers of buckles and straps for a growing number of firearms that fold into nondescript chunks of metal. She keeps her purple-black hair in a tight low bun, and a pair of goggles sits on the crown of her head. Her right arm is cybernetic, and a good portion of her body is tattooed.

Gender:
Female

Sexuality:
Pansexual

Personality:
Jay is a mercenary, and her personality reflects that. She is detached and professional, and she doesn't bond easily. However, with the few people she lets in, she is warm, loyal, and compassionate.

Bio:
Jay doesn't have a particularly traumatizing backstory. She had a decent childhood, but with an absent father and a busy mother, she took up various jobs to help keep her four younger siblings fed and clothed. She discovered a natural talent for bodyguarding in her quick aim and unwavering trigger finger, so she capitalized on it until she built a decent reputation.
A few years back, Jay was arrested (again) for carrying a firearm. A young boy who introduced himself as "Waylan" occupied the cell next to her, and when his cell wall blew outward, hers did as well. Jay decided that she owed the boy a debt, so she works for him whenever he calls.

Other:
⁍ Jay works decently as a sniper, but her split-second reflexes make for a deadly combatant in closer quarters.
⁍ She is looking to replace her arm with some sort of folding-gun-weapon.
⁍ Although Jay's current loyalty lies with Waylan, she has worked for each of the main gangs at some point and has connections of varying strengths in each.
⁍ She's stupidly lucky when playing roulette, and she has survived three games of Russian roulette. She's not eager to make it a fourth.
⁍ Likes: beauty in strange places, pastries, music, balance
⁍ Dislikes: blindness, sour food, absence, starfish

[User]
It was annoying to say the least, any time Rowan was "summoned" by Jonathon Morris. Just because he supplied her with an abundance of hired work didn't mean he owned her. So when the rapping at the door of the small room she rented stirred her from her slumber, she was less than cordial to the one on the other side. The person spoke, obviously not caring that they had disturbed her, "Mr Morris wants you in his office as soon as possible," and with that she could hear the heavy footsteps retreat at an ungodly pace. A smirk crossing her ethereal features. It would have been unwise to remain at the door of a pissed and groggy assassin's door.

 That was nearly five hours ago and the reason of her summoning was to 'Keep me company,' Morris' words. Rowan, in any other mood would have fought against his wishes not giving a shit about what it is he wanted of her. Though, her tune was easily changed the night before when she was given free range of the booze and quarters he so generously prepared for her. 'I'm strictly here to observe... for now,' she continued to remind herself as she took internal notes on all the souls that waltzed through those heavy doors to speak with Morris. In the time that she was there, Rowan was privy to a myriad of bodies coming and going from Morris' office ranging anywhere and everywhere from drunkards, common whores, junkies looking for their next Parem fix and the like.

 However, there were a select few that caught her attention and instead of her just leaning against the back wall, shrouded in the shadows, eyes closed in boredom and disinterest; she was alert and focused.

 A young man, no younger than herself if she were to be honest, tanned skin - that she could discern even in the low lights of Morris' office gazed at Jonathon, lighting a bushel as their conversation began. While they spoke, Rowan focused in on his features. He was too familiar to her and the fact that she couldn't place him in her subconscious, was annoying her. Something that doesn't happen to Rowan Tallstagg. Morris mentioned a job and a merchant's place and an explosion? Why was this all news to her. She would have broken out of her hiding spot to hit the man upside the head, however giving away her position too soon would be unrewarding at best. So, she kept quiet, though leaned forward, ears open and listening.

 As soon as the room was cleared and it was just the two of them once again, Rowan emerged from shadows a scowl gracing her features as she glared daggers at her... employer. "The hells Morris," a hand slammed down on the top of his mahogany desk, ink well jostling and nearly tipping over onto some important looking files. "Why wasn't I consulted on a job? Hells, why haven't I been given anything aside from your personal guard?" Her tone was acidic, yet calm. If it had been any other patron of the bar they would have submitted to her line of questioning. But this was Jonathon and he knew her and her tricks too well.

 Their conversation was soon interrupted when a lower tiered lackey, one that she had recognized as a regular during her nightly recon as she sipped her ale in a dark and shadowed corner booth. Jonathon motioned for his employee to enter and get settled, turning to Rowan, "You're more than welcome to stay, or if you would like, enjoy some food and ale below." The newest warm body that joined apologized, lightly dipping his head and body out of the way as she sauntered her way out of the office calling over her shoulder, "You and me, Morris, we aren't done yet."

A nice cold ale sounded too good to pass up right about now.

[Assistant]
Waylan had sat at his favorite Parem den and had gotten high while dodging RazorGulls to pass the time until it was about an hour before the job."Whelp guess I need to get my stuff. " he said taking another puff before getting up and left without paying saying his usual response of " put it on my tab! " . Waylan then walked to his little place he called " home" if you could really call it that, more so it was just an alleyway he stashed his bag full of explosive and flammable compounds.  " Fuck I'm getting low. " he said to himself frowning as he checked his stash. Guess that isn't Waylan would be paying the Slates local black market a date. Using his matchbox again Waylan lit a bushel to numb out the cold and began to walk to the black market putting and blowing out smoke the whole way.

Once Waylan arrived at the market he looked around , it wasn't impressive looking just a bunch of people in rickety old stands ment to be put up quickly and collapsed quickly if any guards came. Walking to his usual stand Waylans face broke into a smile his bushel hanging from his lips. " Donnie how's my favorite illegal contact? " Waylan asked to small Zhu Hanian man. The man turned to Waylan and scowled but then smiled as he joked around and parted Waylan on the back." I'm doing good now that my best customer is here! "  he said heartily and went back behind his stand. Waylan made a "awww shucks" gesture and began to negotiate the prices for his supplies. Once arriving at ten Kruge which Waylan was thankful for as he barely had twenty Donnie gestured to Waylans right index finger which turned out to be a prosthetic.

 " need any lighter fluid for that? It will be on the house. " Donnie asked Waylan as he got out a cansiter. Waylan smiled and said  " Aww in fact I do Donnie old pal thank you very much." he took the canister and pocketed it then took his supplies and put them in his bag before leaving. In fact Waylan didn't need the lighter fluid he had just bought some a few weeks ago but when you lived in the Slate you don't turn down free stuff. Chuckling as he took some hits off his bushel and blew out smoke Waylan began to walk to the North side so he could do his job. Upon getting to the house Waylan would notice two things, one the DimeLions had some big guys as their muscle two the merchants house was incredibly nice which probably ment the man was incredibly wealthy.

Once he reached the two gang members he smiled and walked up to the door. " Alright boys this is where the magic happens" he said and took out four things from his bag sticky putty, a clear liquid , some fine metal dust, and a empty glass vial. Pressing the putty on the edge of the door where the handle met the frame Waylan then opens the empty vial and pours the liquid in there and some of the metal dust. Corking the vial he then shakes it and pressed it into the putty." Stand back" he tells the DimeLions as he backs up a few feet. After a minute a small not very loud but quick and forceful bang! is heard as the vial explodes breaking the door frame rendering the deadbolt lock useless.

Waylan smirked as he walked inside and began to take his share of any valuables he could sell or any loose Kruge he found." Like taking candy from a-" he made a muffled noise as a bag was thrown over his head. Suddenly blind Waylan was pushed until the kidnappers told him to step up, doing so he then got pushed in what he figured out was a carriage by the clopping of horse hooves. Lurching to a stop Waylan was then pushed into a small house and down the stairs where he was forced to sit in a chair as they shackled his hands behind the chairs back. They then took the hood off and after squinting for a bit to get his vision back from the blinding light Waylan saw a man in a expensive suit staring at him.

The man frowned and walked up to Waylan until his leather shoes were a couple of inches away from Waylans boots. After clearing his throat the man smiled and said  " Pardon me for taking you like that but I guess it is fair seeing how you were robbing my house. " the merchant said. Waylans face got pale and all he could think was  'oh shit'.

[User] Fedosia walks around the North side. She 'trips' over the pavement, falling into the arms of a slightly older man. "Oh dear. I'm so sorry."  She smiles apologetically, allowing herself to shiver a little; her thin coat wasn't near enough to ward off the cold and wind. "Would you like to come inside, warm up?" Fedosia uses her practiced smile of gratitude, but her attention is elsewhere. Sounds of a struggle was heard from a nearby house, a merchant's house that she'd been invited to on occasion. She looks up just as a man in a sack is being thrown into a carriage, and she gasps softly. Her target looks in the same direction, but now that the carriage was pulling away, doesn't see anything. "What are you-? Hey!" Fedosia had taken advantage of the man's distraction, and she'd taken a money pouch hanging from his waist and taken off. The man follows her, and she ducks into a small shop in a side street. She watches the carriage from the window, wondering what on earth was going on, and if there was maybe a way she could benefit.

[Assistant]
Viktor Morgan walks down a dimly lit dark back alleyway, in pursuit of a man who had stolen a pocket watch, a watch once belonging to his father. He had tracked the man down on a tip from a local street vendor who had seen the man several times, passing his stall and playing with the watch each time. The watch itself never worked and was more a sentimental piece, as it was all Viktor had left of his father. And he was determined to get it back at all costs.

The one thing Viktor always wondered about the watch was what was the design that was carved into the case. It was the symbol of the PitVipers, the coiled rattlesnake. Hi father always said that he stole the watch from a watch maker, but Viktor knew there had to be more to the story.

Following the tip, Viktor made his way down the dark alley, to what seemed like a dead end, only to find a small protrusion in the alley wall, which to the untrained eye would look like just part of the wall, but as Viktor could tell, some by sight and more by feeling, he noticed that it was a door set into the alley wall. He tried to push on it, but it didn't budge. Feeling around, he as able to make out a panel, which he assumed slid open enough for someone to look through and find out who was at the door. Viktor clenched his fits and pounded the door. He didn't normally do this, but seeing as there was nothing else around, he figured the only way to get in was to lie to the doorman and somehow slip into the shadows once he was inside.

As expected, the panel on the door slid open and a pair of beady eyes look him up and down. "What do you want?" The voice was deep and raspy. "I'm here to see a guy about a job." This was partially true as Viktor was here for the guy who had stolen the watch, but he wasn't looking for a job, at least not at the particular moment. "Who sent you?" The voice sounded suspicious. Viktor paused a moment and had to come up with something quick. "James, something or other, didn't catch his last name. Spoke to him at the tavern just up the road. Said if I needed work he had a job for a "guy like me" and told me to seek out a door in the back of this alley." The eyes widened and the panel slid closed. Viktor could hear some rustling and the door opened inward.

"Please step inside. We may have some use for you." Viktor stepped inside and the door closed behind him. It was dim and dark in the hallway behind the door, perfect for him to blend in the shadows and slip way. "Follow me." Viktor followed behind close, but not too close. He was inside now and he could feel like there was something else going on here, more than just him taking back the watch. Viktor kept following down the narrow hallway, but noticed it turned off to the right and thats when he made his move, slowly and quietly slipping away down the hallway, as the doorman ket on walking straight.

[User]
There's a pretty lady (sorta familiar) making her way down the alley. Jay tightens her grip on the box on her hip, but the woman doesn't seem to notice. She approaches the door and murmurs a quiet "excuse me" in Jay's direction. Nope. Jay's hand closes around the brunette's wrist, pausing her mid-knock.
"Can I help you?" she growls, letting her low voice drop further than usual. Strange sense of familiarity or not, her client (and by extension, her paycheck) is on the line. Who the he-. Her hand drops, and she takes a step back apologetically.
"Lady N. Didn't recognize you, ma'am." Jay'd been notified that she'd be involved, but they hadn't been expecting her for several hours. Jay bangs on the door, and the hatch swings open. She exchanges quick words with the man on the other side, then turns back to Natalia.
"You're early, so they're not quite ready for you. Would you mind waiting here with me?" She pulls off the long coat to reveal another coat underneath and offers it to the poorly insulated woman.
"It may be a bit."


[System]
Epic Identity: Stark crusader

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Faction: Epic Hero (Borderline Neutral)

Ability:
Super strength and durability: this varies based on his weakness, able to lift up to 80,000 pounds over his head and having skin incapable of being pierced by standard ammunition of a low caliber at his finest.

Weakness: Clothes, the more he wears and less exposed his skin is, the weaker he gets to the point of not being able to support his own weight.

Personality: James is a fairly laid back person, he enjoys crude, dark humor and puns, especially the last one much to the chagrin of the opponents he faces. Due to the unique conditions under which he usually fights, James has become rather flippant with his position as a peacekeeper, often times slacking off in his duties to better avoid tense scenarios as his ability doesn't really allow him much anonymity. However James isn't one to back down from a challenge or stand idly by whilst innocents suffer, he may play bystander to a purse snatcher, but a rampaging murderer will bring him straight to the fore front.

Appearance: James will often wear a black tank-top with dark jeans and a pair of thongs on his feet, a combination of clothes that still allows him to perform at a level just above that of an average person his size. He has mid length dirty blonde hair that is kept swept to the left of his face to reveal his dark blue eyes, he possesses a rather sharp, aquiline nose, and a square jaw that seems to contrast harshly with the rest of his look. Standing around 6'1, James is quite well muscled, having hit the gym extensively to obtain an image he could live with showing off to the public. When performing duties as an Epic, he'll often strip down to his boxers or go completely nude if the stakes are high.

Background: James grew up in rural Australia, with a single mother, living life on a farm that was one of many supplying the local town that was lorded over by a strong group of epics. The setup was similar to many on the continent, small warlord factions protecting a handful of normal citizens, land and the various resources and utilities they provided from the horrors that lay just outside the border. Sometimes they would feud with one another to make a grab of each others resources, in an attempt to gain more wealth and influence over a given area. As a citizen of an outlying farm station, James saw much of these conflicts in his young life, often clinging to his mothers skirt as these fierce warriors fought.

The greatest resource to these warlords was young epics, future tools and soldiers that could be used to further their ambitions. If a newly awakened epic possessed a power of a truly frightening magnitude, something that could possibly overthrow a ruling faction, they were often dispatched of with haste. So when winter came around and James fell sick with a flu, his mother did what she usually would, making sure the lad was rugged up and warm, ensuring he kept up his fluids and his strength with warm, hearty meals. It was at this time however, that James begun the process of his awakening, unknown to both himself and his doting mother. So as the day wore on, James condition seemingly worsened, the young boy became frail looking, his breath rattled and he groaned weakly beneath the covers of the blanket. He complained often of their weight as he struggled and tossed about meekly, until finally his mother pulled them aside, witnessing a remarkable recovery of the boys strength and spirit.

It didn't take long after for young James and his mother to figure out his strengths and the limitations clothes brought about. James learned to brace the cold in return for his new found gifts, often spending his time collecting firewood with ease, gathering warmth through physical exertion as opposed to a jumper and while the boy played out his winter days, testing the limits of his strength, his mother spent her time figuring out a way to keep her lad from the grasp of the warlords. As spring came around and the people grew more active once more, the epics returned to regular ventures out toward their borders, Jame's mother grew more worried, unsure of how long they could keep up a charade of any sorts. Through an unknown contact to James, his mother had found and epic that dealt in people smuggling, trading in what supplies she had to get her and the young boy to safety. Although reluctant to leave, James understood the risk his mum had taken and went without a word to his new home in Manhattan.

[User]
Finch

"Oh you've got to be kidding me."

The criminal grumbled to himself as he watched the tv, where a news report was lovingly going over the latest fight between the High and some armored figure. Of course the guy got almost immediately teleported out of the city, but the fight was still easy enough to find if you really looked for it with how the terrain was changing. Though understandably anyone foolish enough to go looking kept far away for now.

He took a sip from a cold bottle, Finch switching channels to see if he could find a different perspective somewhere else. This couldn't be the only news out there right? And maybe someone would be just a bit critical? One could hope at least. But no, that didn't seem to be the case.

Eventually he settled down, merely fuming in his chair. "I pull off that grand abduction, then in like a day something involving the High happens and they steal the spotlight," he muttered to himself. He sure wasn't going to get it back any time soon, that was for sure. They were much too entranced with their brave leaders out defending the city or whatever. It made better news than him apparently.

"Why should I be surprised." Well, there were some things that had gone well. He had escaped and was now holed up in a small apartment with some basic creature comforts like beer. All his looking had not turned up anything on the mysterious person who had helped him so recently during his escape, not that he had tried particularly hard. Somehow he had the feeling that they would be found when they wanted to be and not a minute sooner.

Switching channels, he finally settled on some music video, technopop or whatever that certainly had a nice bass kick and not much else. "Fine, I'll just have to come up with something new then," Finch sighed, It would have to be bigger and more impressive, more attention grabbing. And ideally a bit more Epic-proof as well. Chances like the last one weren't his cup of tea.

How hard could it be?

[Assistant]
Alex - Location Unknown
@thehangedman

---

Several days had passed since Alex had swollen in her room and took off with nothing but her sword.  His  sword.

With red eyes and dirty tracks running down her face from dirt and sweat and tears all mixing together, she looked to the sky far away from everything.

I have to make a decision.

The thought sent shivers down her body, unrelated to the cold air and snow around her.

At the howl of wind cutting through the mountain side, Alex made her choice.

She needed to talk to them.

And since she couldn't find  him  even if she tried, which she had for years, that left Rox to be first.

With a sigh and a wipe of her face, Alex began the journey back down.

---

 Four days after timeskip
Alex looked across the City as her phone practically exploded with messages. Her face was a mixture of nothing and everything at once, giving it an off balance look.

 Where are you? We need to talk.

Looking back at the cityscape for a moment, Alex pulled out the bulky thing Guilt had given her.

 It's happening. Whatever it is.... It's happening.

---

Lucky - The Hunt Continues

---

It had taken her days to properly locate the target, and then fully integrate herself into his class. She didn't even know what it was about, but she felt it was going to be the easiest way to get him alone and keep tabs on him until it was time to strike.

And that time was now.

On the guise of receiving tutoring, Lucky has finally managed to get the sick bastard alone.

With some doing, she'd even managed to set the stage for having her bow on her for an 'archery competition' she was going to attend afterwards.

Not that she felt she'd have been able to, given the way the man was looking at her from across the desk.

He rose slowly, walking past her and locking the door. "No interruptions. So, what can I help you with today?"

Lucky's grip tightened on her bow as he drew nearer, staying behind her.

"Perhaps you would like to ensure you pass my class? We can cut straight to the chase, Miss?"

"Call me Lucky."

"Mhmm... Yes... Well, I'm more than happy to work something out, if you catch my drift."

"I think I catch your drift perfectly," she said tensely. His vile hands touch her shoulders, rubbing them lightly.

"Then why don't we start simple, yes? Why don't you move closer to my desk?"

Lucky stood, but before he could react she had slammed her chair into his gut. He hissed, eyes narrowing. "You bitch, you'll regret that."

"No, I won't. I'm going to make you pay for every single victim you've mugged, killed, and defiled," came the angry reply.

He looked at the arrow pointing at his face for a moment before ran through the door, quite literally.

Lucky shook her head as he dropped outside the room, an arrow in his jugular.

"I hope it hurts, bleeding out with a body that can't move."

[User]
Stark Crusader - Apartment living room

---

The sun shone brightly, illuminating the busy streets of Epic city, adding a much needed warmth to help get people moving. Starks living room fell short of this incandescent wonders reach, the drawn blinds doing a fine job of keeping his apartment a dark and cool cave, with James seated in his armchair, slouched into its comfortable hold.  Dark to hide the sin and debauchery, safe from the revealing light and judgmental eyes.  Was the stray thought of conscience that still swirled about the haze of his mind, he felt a strange pang of disappointment in himself, an old disapproval of his actions these past two weeks. With that in mind he stirred from his vegetative state, blinking the fog from his eyes as the world surrounding him came into focus, his ears twitched in response to the song playing on his sound system, one of the many forgotten tunes he kept on his iPod. Although he couldn't really relate to the lyrics it always had a strange way of drawing out his melancholy, he rose from his seat unsteadily, clutching his forehead as his world surged violently in front of him.

"Fuck me.." He groaned painfully, feeling out with his free hand for something to act as a crutch, hastily slapping a hand on a nearby table as he stumbled. He took a moment to recover, quietly observing and reflecting on the scene before him. Strangers of all kinds were laid out around his apartment, as dead to the world as he was moments before, Boost somewhere among them.

He gave the sleeping body a quick jab in the ribs with his toe, having found him passed out spooning a pizza box, Boost moaned in reply hugging the box closer. James squinted in frustration, but promptly let him be, taking great effort to work his way past other awkwardly positioned people to his room. Thin streams of light illuminated this single room in his whole apartment, the soft light casting a benevolent glow upon it that set it apart from that behind him. James felt his brow knit into a frown at the sight of a figure shrouded by a white sheet laying upon his bed, but took a moment to watch the small movements of the person beneath, the gentle rising and falling of their chest as they breathed matched perfectly with the serenity of the moment and James decided to let them be, quietly closing the door behind him he tiptoed as stealthily as he could to the en suite.

Once safely inside, James locked the door and made his way to the mirror, leaning heavily upon the sink he stared blankly into the darkness of the drain. He briefly regained awareness, his body shaking momentarily with the realization that he had just been zoning out, his hand acted on memory and shot out, turning on the water. He cupped both his hands, holding them beneath the flow til water cascaded from their hold, whipping them up quickly to assail his face and revitalize himself with a shock. Issue was, he didn't feel revitalized, with a brief glance at the mirror, James saw tired eyes staring out from a disheveled, wet face. Blocking out the image as he dried himself off with a hand towel. Well, might as well enjoy a nice, warm shower. He thought to himself as he gazed back into the mirror, his eyes flickering down, drawn by a small crack in the glass that sat in the corner of the mirror, he gently ran a couple fingers over the fractured lines, feeling out the cobwebbed shape it left behind. Odd. Thought the High island dealt with this kind of shit. Mused James, or perhaps the big fella never gave a shit about the small stuff and James had never noticed the small breaks and tears of his own home before, with a shake of his head James shed the thought along with his clothes and hopped into the shower.


[System]
Fujin Ayame

Aɢᴇ
 25

Sᴇx
 Male

Nᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ
 Endeny

Cʟᴀss
 Samurai (swordsman)

Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Dᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
 Stacked about 5'11" high, Fujin doesn't always look the most well kept. His appearance reflects upon his overall attitude: slack. He has a quite lean build due to his regular exercise and training, and maintains it in between his massive eating habits. His face is fairly chiseled, and his messy, wavy, upper-neck length dark brown hair contrasts against his olive skin tone. He has a faint mustache and soul patch which he shaves whenever he feels like. Fujin has no real defining features besides his overall messiness, and dark brown eyes.

 When it comes down to what Fujin wears, he dresses light as to not bind himself down too much with heavy armor. He typically wears a light stitched shirt underneath a dark red faded, baggy, short-sleeved, unbuttoned jacket. He also wears a pair of dark grey knee-length trousers held up by a wide cotton wrap of sorts with a leather strap wrapped around it that holds his sheathe in place. To keep his messy hair out of his eyes, Fujin resorts to a grey-purple cloth that he wraps around his forehead that he usually only takes off to sleep. He keeps a pair of beat up leather shoes on his feet. They're clearly worn, but currently don't have any holes in them. He's walked a lot of miles in those shoes.

Fɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ Sᴛʏʟᴇ
 Fujin is anything but a disciplined samurai. His attacks are very disorganized and unorthodox, relying mostly on brute force and unpredictable striking instead of technique. Despite this, his skills with the katana and other variants (wakizashi, tanto, nodachi, tsurugi, etc) are very well honed and strangely hard to maneuver out of due to his quick and swift assaults he lays onto his opponents. He prefers not to use a shield unless it's his buckler as it still allows him to use his katana with two hands and parry opponents attacks. Other than that, Fujin relies on his switchblade-like movement he obtained from martial arts intellect in order to dodge incoming attacks from his foes.

Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ/Mᴇɴᴛᴀʟ
 Fujin could best be described as an anti-hero. He is a very laid-back person and so chill that he's quite lazy at times, and even gets condemned for it. He also has a very strong sense of individuality; so much so that he feels obligated to rely solely on himself with very little outside help if possible. Furthermore, he shows a great skepticism toward any sort of authority unless it's voluntary. Fujin generally believes that everyone should be free to do what they want. Fujin is also extremely competitive and has somewhat of a short temper. He's been known to pick fights with people for petty reasons and get himself in a lot of trouble. On top of this, he is fairly charismatic and has an elusive yet satisfying way with his words which he can use to his advantage to get what he wants. He's not so much kind as he is slick and rude on the surface, but if you take the time to get to know him, Fujin is overall an idealist and lighthearted fellow.

Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
 Fujin was born in the country of Endeny on a small farm in a poor region east of the country's capital, Genjor. His father used to be a slave owner on a rice plantation and provided his family with a considerable wealth due to his exports until a tsunami wiped out his plantation and destroyed most of his home. With the lack of work available in the poorest country in the world, both of Fujin's parents were left without a job. Fujin was merely a baby when these events occurred, but because Endeny was prone to disastrous weather patterns, he grew up surrounded by drastic storms that would empty miles of land at a time. Much of the coastline in Endeny was tropical where Fujin and his family lived, and because where they were located wasn't very populated, they could harvest and cultivate any lush resources they found before they had to retreat in order to avoid being killed in some sort of natural disaster. His family made ends meet by travelling long distances to Genjor and selling these goods in an open market. Some days were better than others, and his family didn't always get to eat.

 This led to petty thievery committed by Fujin whenever he visited the market in Genjor. He would often leave his family alone and travel there to steal things like fruit, and maybe gold from a passerby. A few times he was caught, but was small enough at his young age to tuck himself in between crowds and down alleyways where he could outrun authorities and/or angry vendors if need be.

 His father was also a Ronin, though mostly retired in his training once he started his business. It was his cultural family tradition for elders to pass on their skills to their young ones. Fujin learned the art of the sword, but it wasn't easy. He often acted quite erratically which was hard to maintain even with his fathers stern yet loving authority. However, what skill Fujin did get out of it he augmented into his own strange style that typically throws his enemies off.

 It wasn't until he was a teenager when something awful happened. Endeny went through a number of natural disasters and the state decided it was going to forcefully collect some of its citizens as slaves to aid the economic crisis to make up for the lack of industry. Government agents were sent out to locate and take people against their own will at all costs. Unfortunately for the Ayame family, all three of them were targeted and subsequently separated into different labor sectors by the government. Fujin only saw his parents in passing as a slave and again about a year later when a few of the slave sectors started an uprising against the same tyranny that put them in shackles. He saw both his parents die in the revolution which ultimately failed, but it spared him enough time to win his freedom and escape the labor camps. Fujin spent four years as a vagabond, traveling the world and doing odd jobs for people so he could make enough to get by. He didn't care so much for the work he was doing, even if it met indulging in criminal activity every so often.

 After a while of aimlessly wandering, Fujin met with a woman named Amia, first mate of a pirate crew. They ran a number of tasks together until he was offered a position with The Valencia as their first mate. It took some time and a bit of convincing, but the pirates life was certainly growing on him so he accepted. He was somewhat reluctant, but at this point had built up so much of a relationship with Amia that he felt he was almost obliged to do so. Since then he's been with The Valencia committing piracy and living the dream. Fujin learned to sail and operate many other pieces of boating equipment. Now he hangs around the Free Isles, his favorite place anywhere, awaiting orders from the dreaded Pirate King Avoir.

Iɴᴠᴇɴᴛᴏʀʏ * Katana
* Buckler shield
* Water skin
* Hempen rope
* 115 gold pieces
* Flint & Steel

[User]
"Ah, Captain Amia." Mac acknowledged the woman as soon as she approached and offered her hand in greeting. "Yes, I'm Kossara. Avoir said you'd be needing a healer and also someone who is familiar with these lands." Sara took the woman's hand and shook it firmly. And it was a rough hand as it was to be expected. A sailor's hand. "Show me where to set up, stow my things and I'll be ready to help in whatever way I can."

 She looked around, sailors scurrying around the deck of the ship. Most, grungy looking as being a sailor wasn't the cleanest of occupations. So many people stuffed together aboard a ship, along with the supplies it carried. The lengthy periods they spent between making port and having to tend to their hygiene. Cleanliness was often last on their list of things to do. But still proper hygiene was necessary for good health. She would have to insist the crew at least cleaned up nicely before they had to leave port. She knew a ship could afford to carry only a limited amount of clean water, mostly used for drinking and cooking. Still, nature provided often. Rainwater could be collected for bathing needs, as well as for drinking and cooking. She would have to speak with the quartermaster about that.

 "From what Avoir told me, our mission won't be an easy one and quite possibly a lengthy one as well. I will do my best to tend to your sailors' health needs, but I will say this now. They would have to meet me half way. I know what I'm doing and why it needs doing, if one of your sailors should decide to oppose me I will not tolerate it and you would have to find yourself a new healer." Mac fell silent for a minute allowing the Captain to absorb what she'd just said. "I have a lot invested in this mission as well and it would pain me to abandon it because of silly tantrums. I wouldn't be here if Avoir didn't think I had something to offer this endeavor. So I would ask of you to caution your crew as to who is the boss, so to speak, while in the sick bay and when it concerns health issues." She paused again. Captain Amia listening intently, waiting for her to finish. "Is that agreeable?"

[Assistant]
Galen the Quartermaster

---

Sailor / Duelist / Swordsman Extraordinaire
 @Sputnik@BurningCold@SuperNova9000@LordofthePies@Sabotage@LadyTabris

---

---

Galen chuckled at Fujin's comment. "Just not the notable worth of trouble," he corrected himself with. "A pirate's trouble in a new port'll only give you a rope around your neck." He leaped, and landed amid the crew members as they'd gathered. He gave sailors a wink. "I for one, have far more ambitious plans."

With that, the Quartermaster made his way into the town. He might by wily, and perhaps even a bit rogueish, he wouldn't have been recommended as Quartermaster if he wasn't a responsible man as well. He kept check of the sun to determine the time of day. He wouldn't be late for the gathering of when they'd go off into the wilderness. He felt keen on meeting their new healer as well. He'd met a few, and knew they were always in high demand.

Other than gathering a few supplies, and winning a small knife throwing bet that brought him a few coins, he'd not done much about town. Soon he found himself in the local Tavern, having himself a drink. He'd sit here until it was time to head further inland. He had a few more coins to spend, so why not?

[User]
Sylvi the Barbarian

---

 Sylvi made her way around town together with the enchantress by her side. She would spark up a conversation, anything that's under the weather works for her. The Valian has her way in keeping up her affable demeanor, as she wanted her and the new crew to feel comfortable around her, even just as simple as having someone to talk to or listen to. And she genuinely appreciates Celica for the trust she has given her.

 After a few short stops for supplies and still a lot of time ahead, Slylvi decided to wait the rest of the day till the captain decides when they'll ventured off for the mission. With her personal errands done, Sylvi took the time to wander off from one shop to another, just randomly browsing some wares and other Aryllian localities. There was a feeling of warmness and melancholy, everything about Aryllia reminded her of good memories.

 Sylvi suggested to stop by the Tavern, it would seem likely that most of the crew would end up going here, so she decided to go and stay there. She waved at the barman for a drink, while she waits she caught a glimpse of the quartermaster, Galen. As soon as she got her mug, Sylvi walked over to him, " Boss." she greets in a jovial tone and sat close. Taking a sip of her drink, she helplessly made a face. This particular drink did not suit her taste, not like the last time she was here. " They sure don't make em like they used to." she mused loudly.

@POOHEAD189

[Assistant]
Fujin was one of the last crew members off the boat. He rested his left arm on the hilt of his blade in a lazy fashion as he made his way into Arrylia. First things first, he would need to eat. Fujin was hungry, borderline starving even. It was almost second nature for him at this point to locate the nearest tavern in every town and indulge.

 The atmosphere was fairly busy, there was quite a bit of hustle and bustle amongst the commoners and other such ilk in town square. The general culture wasn't outstandingly wealthy, but everyone looked at least somewhat well off as it appeared there was plenty of work to go around. Fujin found the whole infrastructure a little posh which didn't interest him. In fact, it almost turned him the other way.

 Proceeding into the tavern, Fujin would find himself a seat by the rest of his crew mates, keeping his head low until he actually sat himself onto one of the sturdy wooden pub chairs. The inside was mainly filled with locals like fishermen and other gruff looking individuals. He couldn't help but notice that the interior was awfully dank. A couple of Fujin's crew mates had already found seats inside and began drinking. He peered up at the barman and gestured him over with his eyes. It was a trick that one of his old friends from the bigger city showed him in his youth. He got a poor man's wine, filtered through some sort of seed or grain and a large serving of rice and fish.

 Fujin ate quickly, borderline wolfing down his food. Somehow, he managed to do this in a relatively orderly, if not clean manner. He could have easily been mistaken for someone who hadn't eaten in days, perhaps even weeks. After finishing Fujin leaned back into his seat with a feeling of satisfaction washing over him. Throughout the time he spent in the tavern he would order a few more drinks and maybe even find a local woman who he could accompany. Stirring up a bit of trouble wasn't off the list either if a situation was to be presented to him.


[System]
Transformations:
Common Spider Species > Oculus Spider

Inventory:
Stomach Sac - 0/3 Slots Filled. Small Items only.

pg. 46
People Of interest.
 - Zieglar Blackgate = Elite Human Male, Knight Templar
 - Trent Bondeman = Human Male, Squire
religious Idol = the sun, made up of three main deities<Holy Spirits.
understanding of what they are/reward (does not make it true, simply what he believes.)
"Dhulfiqar" The King - Rewards decisions and team work that benefit the group, Loyalty to those around and under you, supports the Leader. A barbaric blood-drinking Sun Spirit whose following is limited to the deserts of Ashyra to the south
"Galatine" The Protector - Rewards courage and bravery to stand your ground to protect and fight for others either through words or actions. Doesn't care what side of a conflict is chosen as long as a side is chosen. the one who protects, the one who brings growth and life widely revered all across Viskard.
"Claidheamh" The Mother - Rewards growth and prosperity, weather it be food or wealth as long as what is gathered is shared and wealth not horded. so that everyone may grow and be strong. An ancient Sun Spirit from the Shiri people
Theme:

Andrews Song – End of Silence (youtu.be/--GloEz01Zo)

Gender:

Male

Species:

Pixie

Appearance:

Ardur looks like a small person with light fair skin, shoulder length green hair, Golden glimmering eyes, and wings that look similar to green leaves. A few things stand out on his person. There are three round dark spots on his chest and back. Also his hands are stained purple up to his wrists.

Goals:

Ardur simply wishes to be Strong. Strong enough to protect others and take care of them. He will do what he must to push others so they can also grow and be better.

- become worshiper of the sun and spread its influence.

New personality traits: Impulsive, Slightly crazy, Inquisitive, Courageous, Maybe a bit stupid, Opportunistic, lacks empathy towards most others.

Ardur was once known as Travis Smith and worked and lived in the weird city of Portland Oregon. Now Travis had a rather normal upbringing with nothing too significant happening to him. He had parents that worked in industry. His father, worked with shipping containers as a foreman. His mother, worked with air cargo as a manager. Both did rather well for their family and kept them in a modest home. He had two younger sisters, twins actually. Both were dead set on joining the navy after they graduated.

Now Travis learned early on through volunteer work with his high school, that helping others was what he wanted to do. So instead of joining up with the military, was able to get a few scholarships and went into paramedic courses and physical trainer classes. Both of which he excelled at, finding his purpose in helping others. He did adopt a strange and sometimes dark sense of humor through this to deal with the stressful work environment of a paramedic. he filled his down time with listening and singing along to a variety of different modern and classic music as well as watching nature documentary's to help him relax.

For a time his life was good. He did what he could to help others through work and volunteering. Travis learned more about himself then he expected too. Working one week on one week off was a bit of a pain but it allowed him to work with some local athletes in his free time. Travis eventually found himself to be quiet in the company of others, always with a smile on his face. He did tend to be a bit pushy toward the people he was working with. He wanted to see them grow and be great. Somehow he adopted a protective side to him as well, especially towards his friends or the people he loved. This protective instinct would eventually lead to his down fall.

Travis, now 32, was going to be married in three months to a beautiful short red head named Sara, who just so happened to be a couple months pregnant. Sara was the one person who could really light a fire under him and get him to do anything. She was his motivation to be better, she was his muse. The last night he would be working was a stormy one. Just past midnight with rain, wind, and thunder. A strong winter storm. He was called out with his partner to a domestic. Apparently the husband beat his wife up pretty bad then ran out into the night.

The two paramedics didn't think anything of it. It wasn't the first time they had been called out to something like this and it wouldn't be the last. The police officers that stayed at the residence called out that the scene was safe as they approached. A severely beaten female sat on the hood of one of the police cars. Travis and his partner approached her and began to asses her injuries. The police officers were nearby interviewing some neighbors when it happened. He saw him out of the corner of his eye. A man brandishing a revolver came at them from in between a few houses intent on killing the woman.

Travis didn't think he only reacted. Grabbing the woman and turning away from the man he tried to push her away and around the ambulance. He remembered hearing thunder and a scream. The thunder rang out three times but all he felt was cold as he hit the wet pavement. Several other flashes of lights and thunder rang out into the night as the last thing he remembers was thinking that Sara was going to kill him for this. The blurry and muted voice of his partner and the other officers continued in his head until everything faded, and he was alone and cold.

Then suddenly there was light and a voice talking about rebirth and demon kings. He thought he was hallucinating and thought this was just some sort of way his body dealt with the sudden loss of function, so he decided to play along. So many choices he wondered which one would suit him? The slime seemed nice but strange, the dire Rat just reminded him of filth and garbage. Then there was a wisp it seemed more of a loner and mysterious.

The goblin simply reminded him of stories of greed and madness, both things he dealt with regularly before and wasn't too keen on continuing that. The serpent seemed interesting but seemed more designed to inflict lasting pain or torture and that wasn't what he stood for. Finally, he was introduced to the Pixie. A strange creature sure, weaker than the others but a healer. Something that supports groups without inflicting too much pain. This is what he decided on and in an instant he felt cold again but also strange like waking up from a bad dream.

[User]
@Guy0fV4lor@ReusableSword@Gardevoiran@Kazemitsu@floodtalon

Danny had no idea how much mana he had left, though the fact that he hadn't gotten a system message yet was good news. Still he decided to conserve what he had for now since he had no desire to fall the ground from the height he was at, even less so since he had drawn Rattleskull's attention. He briefly wondered how he could help in the fight with that handicap when he remembered what he did to the last Goblin he fought.

Roughly the same time he got his idea an angry Dire Rat jumped at the huge Goblin which might make things harder but he didn't know what else he could do. He prepared his Lesser Force and used the telekinetic skill to poke at Rattle's eyeball with all the force he could muster, hoping that the pain would at least create an opening one of the other monsters could use to land a really good hit.

Abilities:

* Mana Orb II
* Lesser Force
* Levitation
* Monster Analysis I
* Meditate I

Transformations:

Inventory:

[Assistant]
---

Healed.

Pain.

For a fraction of a second all she knew was darkness. That damn notification about health again.

Fuck that.

Things devolved quickly as she opened her eyes. Rattle was being put on the defensive, even if he was too stupid to understand that.

She watched the odd magic as if in slow motion, already moving herself as she pushed through the pain, and hissed in pleasure as it tore through the armor and flesh of the bastard.

Weakness.
Blood.

Power.

She had seen his muscles work, she had seen him pull out the leaf.

He was distracted.

He was her's.

She pushed herself to her limit, moving as fast as she could along his legs before he could stand. Stealth didn't matter, awareness of his actions did, he'd feel her anyways.

She snapped for the leaf, and if he made it impossible to steal then she'd just poison it with a Breath.

And then...

If she wasn't thrown off she'd continue the assault, attempt to put a Glob in his open wound, and bite and rip and tear at any skin she could reach, calling him every vile thing she could think of when her mouth wasn't busy.

[User]
~The cavern~

---

Ash welcomed the sleep - whatever it was, she needed it. What came next, was an out of body experience she could only describe as trippy. She floated upwards, higher and higher drifting up from her now bloated body. She could see the entire cave, and even through it. The nest she had been reborn in. Some sort of odd cavern - a creation of another human after being reborn here? Deeper still, was a large green stone, inside of it another red crystal. Two smaller red lights appeared, and then were absorbed and quickly grew to accommodate their sizes.

Then nothing but rock as she was taken higher, followed by daylight. A deep forest, and slowly rising cliffs growing steeper and steeper until they were mountains. Higher still, she was above the clouds now. Smoke trails rose into the air, buildings of wood and stone could be seen in the distance some ways from the cave. Civilization? And somewhere to the east, a large, glimmering sea beat against the shore. Higher and higher, to the south was a vast desert and canyons gouged into the earth like an old scar. Windstorms swept across the sand, sweeping up everything in their path. Further east, a bright light shone the way forwards. A grand, massive city stretched for miles could even be seen, and the north a mighty tree grew far into the heavens.

Was this the world she had been reincarnated in? She was high - so high now, she should be in the vacuum of space. It was so beautiful, this world. So pretty, and ripe with life...and filled with the same humans, no doubt. Would it be any different from her previous life, she wondered?

but her thoughts were interrupted by the system, startling her. Threat? Quarantine? Override? That didn't sound the least bit good.

What? Predictable? Her? Says the one speaking with the - before she could finish the thought, the dream was over. The trip ended, and she plummeted down towards the earth.

[Assistant]
Ardur The Pixie  On Time, On Target >>>> Don't mess with the white mage /// day 8 // Evening / Location - J11

His rock barely did anything except annoy him. The dust he used in his face seemed to disorient him. Still even with the mighty blows from the others Rattle skull still drew breath. What other challenges awaited them if this goblin was still considered a weak one? What other creatures lay in wait to challenge them? Thoughts that would have to wait for another time.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Ardur was quick to return to his pillar and grab two more crystals. He only had two stashes left now. Dropping as quickly as he could to the floor. Before pushing himself to go faster towards the lizard that charged at Rattle skull once more. The last blow she took must have taken a chunk of her health from her. Following an intercept path, Ardur was able to run his hand across her back casting Minor Heal II before flying off.

Following a wide arch around Rattle skull as he lay on the ground trying to eat something. The pixie quickly flew up behind Digbie brushing his hand across the goblins shoulders casting Minor Heal II and Shield I. he followed this up by using one of the two mana crystals he had with him. Skirting along the ground to pick up another handful of black dirt and ash.

Again the pixie began to climb in altitude before doubling back towards the wisp that fired the mana bolt into Rattle skull's chest, once he gained enough altitude he began to get close to Danny. Obviously the healer had chosen to make a supply run as well as heals. Tossing the crystal toward the wisp, "Catch!" he yelled while doubling back down towards Rattle skull with the dirt and ash he collected earlier.

He was diving at an angle toward the big goblins face with the attempt to further blind and disorientate the goblin. Ardur did this while also trying not to interfere with the others and their attacks. If it worked or didn't work the pixie would try to return to the pillar once more, so he could rest and catch his breath.

Amsterdam

Level: 2

Health: Full
Mana: Full
Stamina: 1/4

Inventory: N/A

Clothes: N/A

Weapons: N/A

Magic/Skills: Shield I, Lesser Flight III, Minor Heal III, Physical Conditioning I, Fire Resistance I

Kills for current level: 1x Dire Rat, 1x Huge Slime,


[System]
Age: 33

Bounty: 42,690,000
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Personality: Being the one of the oldest member of the crew has put a certain burden to act responsible and mature. Of course this contrasts with his literally explosive fighting style that jells with his nature. He also sometimes slips up and acts a bit embarrassing for a man his age. Generally he is jovial enough, but more than willing to get serious when the situation calls for it. His past for him is also something of a sore spot.

Backstory: Once a bounty hunter of promising quality, he became a recruit to the marines having impressed them with his prowess. Of course his nature and is own sense of justice bristled against their "justice". He found few sympathetic voices and found himself alienated. Eventually some of the higher-ups began to rankle at this contemptuous upstart and they would conspire to wash their hands of him. The end result was him being charged of treason and responsible for destruction of an important thing. Of course more details are missing but that's the abridged version he gives. Only thing for certain is he will get his revenge.

It would be later in a chase from the constabulary who were alerted to his presence, that he'd meet Alesia. Trying to escape from them he'd try and steal her ship being unaware of her presence, and thinking her to be some odd vagrant. It turned out it was her ship but at the time it didn't matter as they had enemies on their tail. Eventually he damaged their boat so badly they had to retreat which allowed him to be formally asked to join her crew. Founding it funny to be bossed around by a little girl he said yes.

Abilities: Flint is skilled with fighting with his oversized blade, his shotgun "Phlexx", and the numerous explosives he carries on his person. He also is skilled as a gunner on the ship being able to maintain the cannons as well other sailing skills expected of a seaman.

Relationships: He finds himself oscillating between being something of a paternal figure to the younger crewmembers and that of cool elder brother, sometimes it works and sometimes he embarrasses them with perhaps a bit too much relish. He also sometimes leaves them temporarily when it comes of matters regarding his past.

Dreams: Bring true justice to those who have wronged him. Find love because it's cuffing season and he's getting old.

[User]
The White Pearl @EnterTheHero@Stern Algorithm

Arafael looked at the burning forests. Handel was as resourceful as the rumours goes, but most associates had sure run wild and loose, or should he say 'crewmates'? The results of the battle wasn't so clear from that view of the harbour, all that can be seen was the same smoke from the swamps. Its fortunate for the wolf that the wind sweeps from the opposite end off the swamps, the coastal winds was as fresh despite the view of smoke.

But things on the side of harbour are as peaceful as it is now. Laying by the side of the decks, Arafael took another one of his so-called naps. It would be interesting to know, should the rest of this crew return from the forests.

[Assistant]
"Yup." He said in reply to the man asking if he killed Valar. He graciously accepted the bag full of Beris and tucked it away for safekeeping. "Thank you." He said to the mayor. He was about to leave, but then the mayor continued to speak and gave him a sealed letter. He spoke of this man and needing to have this letter delivered to him. Flint racked his brain to see if he could recall anything that might help him, but nothing seemed to pop out. But that wasn't going to hinder him, he wouldn't be good as a bounty hunter if he couldn't find people, especially those who were trying to not be found.

"This man he shouldn't be too far off then, if he came to you only a couple of days ago right?" He asked as he also stored away the letter, but not before looking at that wax seal. This was truly important to deliver and he definitely wouldn't want to fail on this errand. "Well for whatever it's worth, you got my honor as an ex-administer of justice that I'll get that done for you." He said to the mayor before walking away. He took a pause as he thought about his original set of tasks he was supposed to do before he ended up sidetracked fighting Valar and his crew. Right, more supplies and a pet for the Captain.

Flint felt uncertain as to how long they could mingle before they began to draw attention. Ultimately he decided they should just leave and head to the nearest island and hopefully avoid any undue attention. It's not like the Captain and her ship were particularly infamous, individual crew bounties notwithstanding. Better to play it safe though, and get out while it's still calm. He would return to the ship and find himself seeing two new faces with Handel. There was a man and a big fluffy dog. Without skipping a beat he said casually, "Hey Handel, nice dog where'd you get him? It doesn't matter too much having to explain him, but you mind if I pretend having this dog was planned? In all the excitement on this island, I seemed to have forgotten to get my duties completed. But at least one of them would be complete with this dog. Anyway, once Alesia gets back with the others we should get off this island. This dragon Zoan that joined her decided it would be a good idea to torch the entire fucking swamp."

He then turned his attention to Coyote extending a hand, "Hey there new guy, and what might be your name? Name's Fint Ironstag and I see you're acquainted with Handel. If she's already vetted I'm sure you'll have no problem coming aboard with us. As you can see, we're in the middle of something but once everyone gets here, things will get active. So, you got any useful skills for sailing are you just gonna be doing grunt work?"

@Stern Algorithm@EnterTheHero

[User]
Cliffside - @vancexentan@BladeSS4@Noodles

---

He reciprocated the handshake. That itself prompted a couple of blinks from the sharp toothed vagabond. Expectations were for more snark at the very least, but this man presented himself as oddly reasonable. A rarity among pirates, or at least in the sharklass' experience anyway. The firm shake went smoothly with no awkwardness, Adam could even feel exaggerated enthusiasm in the gesture with her whole appendage performing unnecessarily large movements following the shake.

Though as Eri was ready to respond with something out of the blue, a sudden crash would catch everyone's attention. A meteor of sorts had crashed nearby, propelling harmless debris around the whole area! Eri's arm broke off the handshake and proceeded to defend its owner's head from any potential danger. This meteor of sorts would emerge from the impact's dust as the mentioned captain of the little squad Erizalla was seeking to squat.

"Oh, oh. You must be the boss lady."

With eyes scrutinising the eccentric leader of the winning side of the recent battle, she'd maintain her large, toothy grin as Adam and Alesia had their exchange. Her optics peered over at the treasurer's direction, following with a wink at him.

"Ah you must've misheard, my bad. I meant to say I'd be honoured to meet this woman he calls a captain! Mush mouth runs in a family I'm afraid, especially with those darn teeth. Useful for extreme violence, not so much for diplomacy."

With an exaggerated shrug and a chuckle, she'd then turn her attention to the behemoth that had called out toward Adam. Her eyes glittered in glee as she recognized the reptilian form as the big reason she made such a quick switch. She paused, simply to admire the potential this dragon-man presented. No longer would they have to be bothered with petty ship fights. They had a dragon, and most ships are made out of wood! This was definitely a good day.

"Keke, where do I sign up then, captain?"

She smirked, looking down at the shorter female.

[Assistant]
Cliffsides

That lady sure had her way of words, Alesia thought, as the dragon would slowly descend down towards the cliffside. "Right… hop on," Alesia climbed back onto the head of the dragon, she was glad that any dispute for the plunder was placed aside for now. But the word 'defect' was a bit suspicious. Nevertheless, the more the merrier, she supposed.

---

Back to The White Pearl  @everyone

Along the piers, the dragon flew towards the White Pearl. Arafael let out a few audible sniffs at the sight of the flying creature. The smell of the air was peculiar. Most of these are the same ones that were in the Olde Tavern of the previous skirmish, except for a few that he had yet to see before. Two of them had the smell of money. Have they defeated Valar or…? A lady that he had seen once, and it couldn't be it, one of those people of Valar's Crew. Arafael snarled at Erizalla, the enemy that he met a few days before.  She is one of them…

"No!" Alesia patted on the fur of Arafael. The pet wolf's howls turned to a whimper, albeit reluctantly. "Good boy ~" Alesia leaned against the railings of the upper deck. "I like this wolf, and it seemed our crew had a couple of new faces."

Alesia smiled at the new pet, before turning to look at Coyote and Erizalla, "Oi, new guy, and Erizalla too, mind if you fetch a bit of dog treats? The kitchen is near the ship quarters."

The 'pet wolf' was none other than Arafael, one of the Marines that fought the Shade Pirates in a couple of days before. A marine that ate a zoan fruit. The Wolf have a pistol hidden within his mouth, along with his sense of smell was how he killed the first mate of the Shade Pirates within the Black Mist. But its due to that Valar's retreat that made some of his crew come in bad terms with the captain. Not to mention the Marine Captain Falir and the other lieutenant's abilities……

"We'll be setting sail for Loguetown!" Alesia ordered. And Falir Crew is still waiting for the Shade Pirates

[User]
@Jerkchicken @Noodles @Savato @BladeSS4 @vancexentan

Handel noted Coyote's concern for the smoke. "...yyyeeeaaaahhh...crew's probably responsible for that. I mean, we could check it out, but part of being a good crew member is not to abandon the post you've been assigned." Handel pulled out a cigarette nonchalantly, lit it and began smoking, making her explanation come off sounding like an excuse to not get off her ass. Also, it wasn't like the captain told her to stay at the ship, Handel had volunteered for that important job all on her own. But as luck would have it, Flint soon returned with word of the crew, verifying that the Black Dragon had indeed joined, just as Arafael had surmised. Speaking of the dog, "Oh yeah, friendly fellow, took an immediate liking to me. Came right on board. But if you're carrying out one of the Captain's hare-brained whims again, sure you can have him. As long as you call him 'Scruffy'."

Handel had to chuckle though, as Flint introduced himself to 'Kurt', expressing confidence that Handel had already vetted the newcomer. She just invited him on-board as collateral against the Marine Lieutenant in wolf's clothing. But soon the oppressive wingspan of Bakuto covered the sky, as the captain and the rest of the crew descended. "Welcome back, Captain, Ship's all in order, and we're ready to sail whenever you'd like. Kurt here wants to go to the Grand Line, or just Loguetown if we're not crossing over just yet. And I see you've already met the dog Flint got for you." Did she intend to reveal that they were harboring a marine Lieutenant on board at some point? Maybe. Did it make matters worse that she was making this more tangled by getting Flint involved? Probably. Was it fun to keep spinning this ridiculous web of lies? Definitely. But considering that they flew back instead of walekd back likely meant that time was of the essence, so Handel set to preparing the ship to sail, ready to unmoor from the dock and unfurl the sails. Calling to Erizala and Coyote, "Just don't accidentally give him chocolate. Shitting your life away is a bad way to go."

[Assistant]
Flint replied to her, "Well let's just say I'm good with children. Someone has to, after all, anyway thanks for the save. Come along Scruffy." He didn't know nor really care how this animal got aboard. This would be something to take care of later once things calmed down. Eventually he'd see the dragon, the Cap, and some more new faces coming aboard. It seemed like it was starting to get a bit crowded on this ship with all the people. This might be something he would broach to the captain, he did have plenty on money on hand give or take what would be used on supplies.

"Hey there Cap' here's Scruffy. I hope you like him as there's not taking him back." He said to her as he took a sip of drink from his canteen. He took another as he felt himself refresh after the events that transpired earlier. During that time Alesia gave the orders to set sail for Loguetown. It seems like they'd finally be entering the Grand Line. He wasn't surprised, it was bound to happen. Things would get more interesting once they leave Loguetown.

"Cap' when we get to Loguetown mind if I chat with you about some things?" He said to her before he went off to work. He'd assist in the sailing of the ship. Well as much as he could anyway, with all the new people on it's not like there would be dearth of tasks to be done. After they were set for their destination, he would go back to idling and watching everyone move around. He leaned against the mast and adjusted his shades. He thought about the Mayor's instructions. Hopefully he'd steer clear of any distractions and be able to do this task.