http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=13510<br/><br/>Peter was walking through the unclaimed nature with his gun hanging loosely at his side. Most hunters would have been walking slowly and close to the ground or perched in a tree. Not him, though. This man knew he had the reflexes to put down anything that moved fifty feet of him before it could react to his presence. His mind wandered to the rewards for that day's toil. Each skin would bring in a hefty sum, and twice as much if it didn't have too many holes in it. Speaking of holes, he saw what appeared to be one in reality itself. The huntsman only had a second to ponder it before he was blinded and woke up in some strange place feeling like he just went three rounds with a bottle of tequila.<br/><br/>And the woman in front of him didn't look like she was around those parts, either. Her angry shouts certainly didn't sound like Japanese. Peter scoffed to himself that it might be Klingon or something similarly weird. She looked like one of those furries or LARP nerds he'd heard about. Still, the noise wasn't making his headache any better, so getting her to stop seemed like a worthwhile course of action.<strong>"Whoa, okay, slow down and speak an actual language. What the hell is your problem?"</strong>He tried speaking in Japanese first, hoping she'd have the decency to reply in turn, and much quieter.