Initiating the first part of the plan was chaos. Liana opened the door quietly to the bar only to have alcohol spewed in her face. The stinging smell and bubbly feeling drenched her hair and face, dropping onto the floor in front of her. Liana didn't have enough time to close her eyes, although she saw the beer flying towards her face before actually coming into contact. A hand slapped over her eye and the woman hissed in pain and aggravation. Obscuring her vision was the worse possible thing to have been done to her and the result was her body cascading into something fuzzy.
"Excuse me!"she said but her apology could barely be heard over the sound of crashing glasses and roars. Roars. The fuzzy thing her body flung into was exactly what she thought it was: a werebear. Liana swore inside of her head and tried desperately to blink away the alcohol in the wells of her eyes. A foggy shade of grey, tan, and fur outlined her vision. She tried to scramble backwards but ended up slipping over a lump; a lump in which, though she knew exactly what it was, she didn't want to ponder too much over it. Liana shot her hands out to catch herself only to have her hands shoved into shards of glass littered over the bar floor.
"SHIT!"she swore outwardly. Simultaneously, the door to the bar burst open and a booming voice filled the air. Liana contemplated sitting still, for whatever the thing/person was, she didn't want to question his authority whatsoever. On the other hand, somebody else did, for an unknown object in her eyes flew towards to the door where the newcomer stood. Liana took the new turn of attention to scramble off of her ass, half-wobbling, half-slipping over to the bar.
"Can I have a pear?!"she shouted through the noise at the bartender who was holding what she hoped and prayed was a broom in his hands. The lack of vision would get her in a world of trouble so she reluctantly decided to pay for the fruit if it mean she could leave the fiasco! Her blood caked hands gripped the sides of the bar stand, alcohol dripping down the ends of her hair while she waited for a response of some sort.
[/DASH]
Liana enters the bar only to get alcohol to the face and in her eyes, obscuring her vision. As a result, she bumps into a werebear, trips over a dead body, cuts her hands on glass; all of that to finally make it to the bar and ask the bartender for a pear.
"Hey, XC. You sure you don't wanna stay and travel with us?"
The voice was followed by multiple shouts of assent, and the Panda turned back to the crew of the airship he had been travelling with for the past two weeks. He had cooked for them, which was the most he could do to repay their kindness for letting him travel with them but it was time for them to part. Over the two weeks Panda had made friends with the crew and well, they didn't really want to see him go. Aside from the excellent food, Panda was good company for them during their parties with a good sense of humour.
"I'm sorry, man. This is my stop. We'll keep in contact, yeah?"
With a final wave to the men, and a tear that rolled down into his fur the Panda walked out from the airship and onto the docks. Without turning back, Panda walked on and towards the marketplace, and into the very center of it - He found a clear spot where he could cook something and probably sell it and then find more ingredients. He had a knack of finding ingredients where they shouldn't be found. Panda had no idea how he did it.
But.
Panda then realized something.
He had no bowls.
No anything.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
____________________________________________________________________________________
Summary: Panda goes to the Marketplace. About to set-up shop until he realizes he has nothing to cook with.
For Doctor Surgeon, the range of his emotions were defined by the shapes he could create with his fingers. Happy, sad, and a line that meant neither of the two seemed to color the world of his interaction. But where was overwhelming joy, soul crushing sorrow? How could he express love, confusion, anger? Most of humanity seemed to utilize face and vocal variation to make the communication, but Doctor Surgeon had none of these. How best to express himself then? How best to release the powerful emotions raging within his narrow frame? As the first punch was thrown, Doctor Surgeon brought up his fingers and made a heart with them, capturing the bartender, the stranger and each aggressor within, almost as if taking a picture. He loved them, truly, completely, and romantically. Despite logical progression, they eschewed the path to the least amount of violence and bent heaven, earth, and social protocol to dent skulls with pewter mugs. Truly, humanity yearned to be healed.
Why else would they go so far out of their way to injure themselves?
"I may have reason to suspect your respectable nature," Doctor Surgeon whispered to the bar wall, "I'd step in if I were you." Of course he wasn't, and had no idea what sort of endurance one must be in order to qualify to be a bar. Maybe this was 'respectable'. Perhaps respect was a synonym for wholesale violence. Certainly he had heard differently before, but who was he to argue with what he was clearly witnessing?
The stranger from the bar, syringe in hand, bade him follow. Not that Doctor Surgeon trusted strangers so easily, but as a necromancer battled his way to the door and something akin to a giant burst in through the front, even the most alluring of bloodshed could not overwhelm the sheer pragmatism of relocation.
He followed his would-be savior through the tangled mess of arms and splintered wood. He paused only briefly to consider removing the left index finger of a man holding another against the wall. It looked like a hero's finger, but he hadn't the time for a full analysis. Sighing within the beak of his mask, Doctor Surgeon allowed his medical curiosity to simmer and slid quietly into the storeroom. There were four here now, including himself. Some stitched girl liberating oranges, his would-be savior, and an adorable little creature that seemed more at home in a pre-shatter picture than this violent tableau.
Maybe she was...simply crawled out of the past and into the present. Could people do that?
He could sow wings on his back or a tail from his forehead...why shouldn't it be possible?
Doctor Surgeon made a note to examine the properties of her skin if he ever had the opportunity. If he observed any consistencies with similar chemicals used in photography he would address the concern immediately. After all, it stands to reason that the anatomy of a picture girl would be at least slightly different than the anatomy of a non photographed entity.
It only made sense.
He paused in the open door, torn between observing the effect of the baritone newcomer on the chaos and following the sage advice to 'follow'. Pain killers were apparently in rare supply here, perhaps enough so that they would serve as a form of money. It would be a relief, certainly. The clinical application of gold coins was surprisingly minimal...and Doctor Surgeon didn't like the way they jangled in his pockets...it suggested bells, perhaps merriment or even considerable wealth. Doctor Surgeon was none of these things. Merriment was unprofessional and wealth was subjective depending on the island, cultural background, and the blend of insanity forcing logical people to assign arbitrary value to an otherwise useless item.
He pointed, first at Vay, then at Chanter, than at Acqua.
"Minimal trauma, blood loss should cease with an application of pressure and time, denying that...I diagnose less than two full minuets of bleeding until clot. You also show familiarity with that needle, helpful in case I am ever deprived of arms or working digits when a shot need be administered, I shall endeavor to remember that."
Next was Chanter, his finger scissoring along the lines of her stitches like a pen, scribbling out the lines at a distance, almost furiously, "Those stitches are cosmetic at this point, the wounds have long healed. Unless...perhaps you have a clinical condition? I know! Limited regenerative ability? Perhaps you sow your body together?" He was excited, but it was hard to tell. His voice rose like it should, but too high...like a caricature of excitement. "I have a similar disorder! Have you noted the thickness of the thread extends the durability of-"
A crash behind him, some girl fell against the bar, proffering bloody hands toward an oblivious bartender. Lacerations, glass, minor, stitches required on the left hand between the thumb and the wrist, glass removal necessary, antibacteria application following, wound recovery relative to species and abilities.
Focus.
So distracted...what was he, a med student? (What's a med student?) Well...he certainly wasn't one, especially if the connotation his mind pronounced the word with was any indication of its worth.
Acqua was the next to receive his attention, and he cocked his head...the ever inquisitive bird. "Picture girl is correct, the most operative escape method is beyond the door...unless of course we would invite minimal attention by-" A glass bottle shattered over Doctor Surgeon's head and he slumped to the ground with the weight of the blow. It was a thrown bottle, no hand behind it, and for a moment he only laid there. Unconciousness was a state reserved for the ill prepared, however, and lifting up his chest till it rose at a right angle to his back, Doctor Surgeon picked himself up, brushing glass from his mask and shaking his head groggily.
"Perhaps I speak too much," he told no one in particular, pushing the door open to the street beyond, "I need to invest in telepathy..."
How ridiculous...Telepathy? What was this, science fiction?
"That's silly," He nodded for Vay and the others to follow, already anticipating possible injuries during their escape from the bar, "I just need to harvest faster vocal chords."
That sounded more logical.
Summary: Doctor Surgeon follows the rest to the store room, addressing each in turn before pushing open the back door and heading out, expecting the others to follow.
[size=+1]Crowds. Something I've not seen in a very, very long time.
Probably not since last I recall visiting Rift Town, actually.
I keep my hood up and my cloak close around me as I move through the clumps of people; this is the sort of place where you can easily be anonymous should you choose to be. And right now, anonymity suits me nicely. I have things to do, people to see, and the fewer interruptions there are along the way the sooner I can get what needs doing done.
And then I can get the fuck out of this place.
Seriously. Rift Town gives me the creeps. It's just too damn noisy.
The crowd begins to thin as I near my destination in the centre of town. Narrow streets all lead into a large central square, filled with stalls and merchants booths with their owners nearby exonerating passers-by to come view what they have for sale. It's the same the world over; the world may have broken, but that doesn't stop people from trying to make a profit. And at the centre of this square lies the thing I came for, what Rift Town has been built around.
A vast relic from times past, embedded into the earth having fallen from the sky. One of the airships from before the Shattering, far larger and more incredible than any of the replicas you see taking to the skies these days. The light at it's peak still works, and functions as a beacon for airships to guide their way into the town's docks.
It's truly a marvel, but it's quite a sad thing at the same time; a monument to everything we've lost, the gravestone of the Iwaku from before. People come from all over to see it, to remind themselves that once upon a time things weren't as fucked up as they are. And to content themselves with the hope that maybe one day things may well be better.
But me? I've come to view this relic for a different reason.
The crowds are thinner here, easier to move through. Making my way through the people I can't help but marvel at the size of the thing...and be a little worried about what I intend to do; it rises into the sky, larger and more magnificent that anything we could hope to build now even though it is long since dead. This is truly a relic from another time. A better time.
I pass a panda standing in amongst the stalls yelling about something; no doubt another salesman. Admittedly a very loud one. No time to stop and watch the spectacle, however. I keep walking, finally reaching the ancient airship's hull.
What colour it might once have been I cannot say; rust and time have hidden this from us all. Even it's name is lost to the mysteries of time. Looking about, it's clear there's far too damn many witnesses here. Merchants, locals and people watching the panda with a look of confusion upon their faces. Far too distracting; I need to find a quieter spot. Further around the relic I find such a place, with only a few people nearby. Not ideal, but it'll do; I'd come back and do this at night but I fear I don't have the time. I begin to scan the airship's hull, looking for what I came here for.
It takes me a while. Rust and time have eroded much of the exterior and make it hard to spot what I'm looking for.
But I find it eventually. Right where my tattoos said it would be. With a smile, I turn and begin to walk towards the docks. I have a few more things to take care of.
But I'll be back.
Before I'm done with it, I'll see this old relic take to the skies once again.
Aeolus travels to the centre of town to view the site of an ancient crashed airship that Rift Town has been built around, passing Panda in the process. She searches for something on the hull of the ship and, finally locating it, heads towards the docks.
The Doctor was quite odd to Acqua, really. A humanoid form in all black with a bird-like mask. Was he a crow? Acqua wasn't too fond of crows, but most other birds seemed to have flown away or died out. It seemed most of the brighter ones like her died out before the world was shattered. A sad fate it was to be possibly the last of her kind. But, they both seemed quite bird-like. Him in ways that differed from the exotic bird now observing him and the others, but bird-like nonetheless.
He proceeded to pause at the open door, getting distracted and flitting from person to person with some sort of chatter. He talked to the one who was involved in starting the fight of the damage he received before curiously examining Chanter's stitches only to find that she was similar to him. His short mentioning of Acqua before a glass bottle struck him in the head was quite curious. Acqua looked with surprise as he slumped to the ground briefly before he somehow picked himself up and then continued to speak briefly before opening the door to the street. Picture girl? Last time I checked I wasn't any pictures so what would that mean? Do I remind him of someone?
She quickly followed after him into the outdoors. Her body tensed up in response to the chill of the outdoors, her fair hair shimmering in the sun, whose light embrace made her feel like it was on its last limb, despite it not being anywhere near sunset. She did not know why, but for some reason quite a few feelings rushed into her. A strange romantic determination combined with the current relief she felt from making it out of the bar with relatively little trouble. An odd shimmer of hope among these people made her inner self smile. Most of the people she had encountered in the world had treated her as their prey; none of these people had, yet, which surprised her greatly. Sadly, the only thing that lit up was her eyes, the rest of her face unwilling to convey her emotions. She was recalling something without even realizing it. Is this the beginning? My beginning?
"I don't want anything of you except your ears; please do listen," Acqua suddenly requested.
Words suddenly appeared in her mind. They were of a tongue she had never heard spoken by another, for it was probably of a dying breed. However, she somehow understood; deep down, she understood. The emotion of it, the small hope of the words earnestly willing away despair, yearning for the accompaniment of another. The songbird opened her mouth, her pale hair miraculously changing its hue to aquamarine, shimmering in a light that projected outward from her chest. The pink sapphire on her necklace began to glow bright blue, now its former hue. A smile graced her face as she began to sing. The picture Doctor Surgeon had was now much more than such, if only for this one song.
The Song:
Translation from gendou.com: I was always searching for the place where real smiles overflow.
I projected the future onto your faint warmth, so I couldn't move.
Rather than piling hope onto the invisible tomorrow,
And repeating worrisome nights,
I want to protect the little happiness that exists here now.
In the nameless starry sky that appears in your clear, blue eyes,
I'll quietly inscribe the coordinates of the dream only I know about.
Even if I was to vanish within the deep darkness,
I'd never lose my memories that continue into you.
"Tell me...?" It was the first time when you touched the door of my heart.
In the time I spent alone, I got used to it before I knew it,
So that you don't notice the pain stabbing at my chest,
And my thoughts that don't reach you, I made lies.
I thought there shouldn't be a reason for loneliness.
The miracle I met on that day,
Is connected to the prologue of a story no one can even imagine.
Even if they're common words, it's fine; I want to tell them straight to you.
I flap and fly to where you are,
"Let's go..." I'm not lost anymore.
Where did I wish for an end...?
Without even knowing my destination,
I can hear your voice.
It announces the "beginning".
In the nameless starry sky that appears in your clear, blue eyes,
I'll draw the coordinates of our own secret dream.
The miracle I met on that day,
Is connected to the prologue of a story no one can even imagine.
Even if they're common words, it's fine; I want to tell them straight to you,
I flap and fly to where you are,
Because I'll be by your side forever...
The bird was now much more than a simple avian beauty. She was the master of songs thought to be long lost, of an internal magic few others possessed. She did not consciously know about the complex arrangement and composition of the piece whose music blessed the presence of those who followed the Doctor outside, but her heart knew the partitur in a manner more precise than one could imagine. Even though they might have not been able to understand the uncommon language she was singing in, they understood the emotion with which she sang the words. Her soul moved nonexistent string instruments to play, an electric guitar and set of drums accompanying them and her surprisingly strong voice. Whatever pain the people listening to her felt left them as if by magic, the gentle light emanating from her energizing them, for as long as she sang, she was hope, something that was thought to be a relic of the past. But no, it still rang true in this humble bird's heart. The girl was more than just a picture; she was a video, a fond memory.
Summary: Acqua follows Doctor Surgeon out and then uses her singing powers to relieve whoever followed outside of pain/minor injuries that might not have been addressed before. (Basically, Doctor Surgeon, possibly Chanter and Raziel would apply, as well as any random people who're near me outside.)
Agnar Westbrook was a gunslinger and electro-mage. He had been raised with the Viking clans and followed Lord Torstein in the Misc Tower offensive at the close of the Admin War. He had fought hard and drank hard, like the best of them, but had kept himself in shape. Now, 36 years old and switching furs for leathers, he was known as a man who could smuggle and conceal whatever you needed smuggled or concealed. A fencer and transporter, Agnar had the Viking grit to get jobs done.
But right now... his car was fucked.
Agnar leant against the metal shutters of the auto repair shop, tattooed arms folded. He watched the two mechanics as they finished the repairs to his Falcon Coupe. They were a comical pair. One was lanky and ginger - the worst two traits to have in combination. And he was real quiet, always looking at his shoes. He called himself Jake and seemed depressed about something (even by Rift Town standards). The second had dark hair and stubble. He was leaning on the hood of the car and lighting a cigarette. He was the opposite - he talked too much, and he sounded like Jack Nicholson. He even smiled like Jack Nicholson. This one called himself Marvin.
"See, yer isopropyl coolant is fine, Sparky," Marvin said as he lit up. "But that bumping sound yer hearin'? That's them ball joints screamin' like bitches. Friction'll blow back and snag the reservoir, get me? And it ain't too good for the serpentine belt neither. Drivin' round Rift Town, up and down the slopes 'tween the shacks? Shit, Sparky, whole fuckin' car's gonna twist apart you keep pushin' it."
Agnar grunted impatiently. Only now, as he watched Marvin pack his tools away, did he notice that the mechanic was dressed in army camo pants and combat boots, which were at odds with his grease-stained vest. And in his toolbox light glinted from a row of liquor bottles, cigarette packs and playing cards. The mechanic clearly had his priorities in order.
There was a rusty squeak as a trolley rolled out from under the car. In it was the other mechanic, Jake, who was twice as long as the trolley itself. His ginger hair was flecked with oil. "Seals are done. I waxed it too. It should give you a year of corrosion-proofing." And unlike Marvin he was well-spoken, with a voice that seemed educated and humble. He also wore camo pants and combat boots, but with a well polished-shine.
The two mechanics were like the post-apocalyptic Odd Couple.
"Oh yeah, you'll need yer wax," continued Marvin. The cigarette bobbing up and down between his teeth as he spoke. Taking a hand-written invoice, he approached the Viking customer. "So, with the proofing and the jury-rig on the brake lines, that'll be 250 Engels plus labour." He grinned at Agnar through the smoke.
The Viking nodded. "That's good." Then his palm struck Marvin square in the sternum. The cigarette went flying and he spun the mechanic into a headlock. In his other hand his pistol was quick-drawn and pushed to Marvin's head. "Now give me the keys."
Over by the car, Jake got up slowly, clutching his back as he did so. "I take it you're not paying?"
"You must be the smart one. Now give me the keys, or your boyfriend won't look too pretty today."
"Jesus, fuck! Why me, man? I din't do nothin'!" Marvin squirmed in the Viking's grip, fear turning him pale. But Jake only gave a little sigh and began packing his tools away.
"Did I stutter, fuckface?" Agnar shouted. "Give me the goddam keys!"
"Oh Jesus, Mother Mary, Allah, Jew.. Jew-God, fuck, help me!"
"SHUT UP!" Agnar tightened the headlock, then pointed the gun at Jake again. "Keys. Now!"
"I don't have your keys..." Jake answered as he closed his tool box and scratched through his hair. He almost looked embarrased. He motioned to the corner behind Agnar. "...He does."
Agnar suddenly sense the man standing perfectly still in the doorway of the office, just over his shoulder.
Sergeant Spears was a tall, scarred man with and eyes that were always half-closed, as if stuck in dreamy rapture. One side of his lips was hooked in a permenant sneer. In full ISAF uniform, the man kept his hands clasped behind his back, as if inspecting the scene. And in those hands were the keys. Agnar could hear them jangling.
"Hi, Sarge!" Marvin grinned then yelped again as Agnar crushed his throat once more. The Viking had his gun levelled at the newcomer.
"You gonna be bring me my keys, asshole?"
"In a fashion." The voice of Sergeant Spears was ghostly and clipped. Everything about the man was efficient.. His jacket was unbuttoned and in the lamplight a tattoo could be seen on his chest. It was large, etched in crimson ink and took up the length of his torso. It was a wheel... a wheel of fortune... like the Tarot Card.
Spears caught the man looking and gave a nod to the tattoo. "Crimson Eye."
Agnar smiled back, "What's that? Some shit-hot special ops unit?"
"No. We were magicians."
The Viking laughed, but Spears continued. "We dealt in manipulation of elements and energies. We brought things together, connected what was broken. So yes, Agnar, I'm going to bring you your keys. They're going to be a part of you. Specifically, your eye socket, then your skull."
The threat was a clinical one, but Agnar wasn't the type to be intimidated by generic humans. He pressed the gun to Marvin's sweaty temple. "Try it, Scarface. I'm a Class Five Electro-Mage with gun-chi training and nanobot implants. I'll slaughter all three of you then give my car a paintjob in your blood."
Spears didn't flinch. "A true assessment, on any normal battlefield. But remember where you are, Agnar. You're in Iwaku, and you are governed by the Cycle." The Sergeant sniffed a great lung-full of air and rolled back his head. His eyes were closed, as with ghostly ecstasy, as if he was feeling something the others were not... like visions or phantom music. "The Cycle... that which makes us follow our arcs - that which brings us together in mythical collectives. That which governs the behaviour of a given scene." He took a step forward and the lamplight bathed upon his tattoo. "The great Wheel of Fortune." His eyes snapped open and fixed again on the gunman. "So yes, Agnar, you have your gun and your powers. But you're the villain in this scene. And really... how fortunate do you feel right now?"
The silence lasted a minute. Agnar was sweating now. He glanced around, checking his exits as he held onto Marvin.
Spears, meanwhile, kept his hands clasped behind his back. "I appreciate you have no money to pay us. The pistol will suffice."
The silence grew tenser. Marvin was still trembling and Jake had begun cleaning his tools. The Sergeant's gaze stayed on him. Agnar checked his exits again, weighed up his options, twitched.... then threw down the gun. It clattered across the floor and came rest under the Sergeant's boot. Then he pushed his hostage away and sent Marvin spluttering and stumbling by the work desk next to Jake.
"Shit, man! I can't breathe! I got asthma!"
Jake replied, deadpan, "Yeah, I hear it's contagious."
Agnar flinched as Spears tossed the keys to him and then, glancing at each of the soldiers, he swore and rushed to his car, pulling open the door and slipping inside. The exhaust roared as the Sergeant retracted the shutters for him. The moment it was clear, Agnar accelerated and turned his car onto the muddy road, speeding away from the auto-repair shop as quickly as he could.
"Shit, Sarge - you hypnotise him or summin'?"
"One thing people haven't forgotten:" said Jake as he helped Marvin up, "The Cycle still settles the fights."
Spears moved past them both and opened a trapdoor beyond the car pit. Down below, a nest of firearms and ammunition glinted. He dropped Agnar's pistol on top of the pile then closed the trapdoor again. "Alright. Morning Drill." He tossed a combat helmet to each of his men.
Marvin grimaced. "Ah fuck! Again?"
"That's the funny thing about mornings." Jake rammed the helmet onto his friend's head. Marvin needed to complain and Jake needed to make sarcastic asides. They complimented each other nicely.
Spears was pulling on a backpack and handing an identical pair to his soldiers. With helmet and combat webbing donned, he was ready for the forced march through the foothills above Rift Town. His eyes had gone back to their dreamy half-state. "The body of an ISAF soldier is a knife to be sharpened. In war and peace we must be ready, for the beasts lose not their hunger. When the lion lays down with the lamb, we shall be still, and till then ever-violent like the hottest flame."
The Sergeant turned and ducked under the shutters, breaking into a jog with his backpack and helmet. Jake sighed and followed shortly after him. Then Marvin, still fixing the straps of his pack and wearing his helmet on a slant. "Fuck, Sarge - we ain't even at war anymore!"
"Just run, monkey."
Spears, Jake and Marvin run an auto repair shop on the western slopes of Rift Town. They are also stockpiling firearms. Spears takes his men out for morning exercise.
[DASH=#F6A8B6] A small figure moved through the crowds, drawing stares from onlookers. On one end of the central square was the roaring commotion of a panda, on the other, a quiet mystery about a young girl, dressed as if she stepped out of a fairy tale. She was slipping quickly through the crowds, eager to see the many merchant stalls. Her dress fluttered and she moved about, oriental designs of blue, pink, and purple, her hair done up in ribbons and flowers, her eyes sparkling. She stopped ahead of a group of people looking up at the airship and sighed. It was enormous, but covered in rust. What color must it have been? What kind of designs did have? How did it look, flying in the sky? Could she just close her eyes and see what it...
Wait. This ship...I've seen it before...? She walked halfway around it, reaching out to touch the side, staining her palm with the brown rust of old age. Unfortunately, there was only a glimmer of a memory. Another fragment. Another mystery. With a sigh, she moved away, unconcerned. She shifted her attention to the commotion on the other side, squeezing through the confused crowd to step ahead. It was a panda. A real life panda. There were pandas in Rift Town?
Instantly, Sakura forgot her troubles over the airship and moved closer to get a better look. If it was a panda, what was he doing here? Or was it a she? It sure looked like a he. Was it selling things? After all, this was the center of town. Could it talk? Was it capable of speaking in English? It looked travel-ready and adventure prepped. She supposed the pink goo was some kind of landing gear? Did it fly here? Was it a parachute gone wrong. Instead of standing by and watching as the panda shouted dramatically, Sakura moved over and bent down so that she was somewhat closer to it's face.
"Hello there Mr. Panda. You are a mister, right? Sorry if I'm wrong. Are you okay? Whats the matter?"
[/DASH]
Sakura, in Rift Town's center, curiously approaches XC, who everyone is staring at.
Bingo There was the beginning. That one instant in time when an entire room comes to the same realisation at the exact same moment. He watched the bouncer bump into the bearer of drinks, and as if in slow motion the drinks tumbleing gracefully from their previously stable bearer, the man himself falling as if trapped in water. Though he couldn't quite tell if the precious liquids hit the ground first, or if the fists started flying first. To be honest it shouldn't matter, however it was knowledge, though comlpetely trivial to the things he should be worried about, and he wanted it.
Unfortunately, things around him would prevent him from obtaining this information. First was a mage of some sort. Ducking to avoid a piece of chair broken over one of the were-bear's heads he almost missed the moving of lips. He couldn't make out what it was but he assumed a enchantment of magicks of some sort. A couple individuals, only recently dead began to move. Strange... I may have to talk to this individual... He watched one of the shifters go down, but to his surprise he came up with a knife and cut off a piece of the guys ear. The guy, however, busted a chair across the shifter's teeth and sent him back down, quite dead this time. Though the mage seemed to bring it back and take it on his way to the door.
Shifting the table in front of him to the side he kept the closest of the brawl more then arms length away. He did not want to deal with this chaotic tangle of the mud and the blood and the beer. The shifters kicked like mules and bit like crocodiles.
"ENOUGH!"
The voice rocked the bar, and one of the more startled men toppled under an elbow, crashing through the table which sheilded Cyanide from the brawl. "Well then...." With a sigh he stood and smashed his armored shoulder accross the face of the closest brawler and took a spit to the face from another. Jabbing out swiftly he found the jaw of the man. Cyanide's weight knocking him back into the brawl. He noted that the religious druggy had vanished, and good riddance too. Since he had been unwittingly been brought into this brawl so he would enter full force. Lunging forward he smashed the armored shuolder into another man, but his unprotected side met the jagged edge of a broken bottle. The man went for his gun but Cyanide pulled his first. Setting the barrel in the man's eye socket and watched him smile. Pulling the trigger he let the round do its dirty work on the man's skull and anything standing behind it.
Cyanide, observing those in the bar, get pulled into it and throws himself in the mass with all force.
Things were getting crazy around the bar. Something along the lines of really damn chaotic, to be honest, and a bar fight soon ensued. While Na'ava had been itching to get in a good fight, the vibes of the room were all off with all the weird people who'd make a sight of themselves. She watched, instead, as the strange personalities danced across her vision. Her drink finished, she stood and followed what seemed to be the largest grouping of peculiar figures. There was little rhyme or reason to it, she just wanted to see what they were doing as they snuck around the back of the building. The group contained the first person to catch her eye, the one that the bartender had asked to leave.
For now, her small gray rucksack was a comforting weight against her back, heavier now than usual because she had tucked her gauntlets inside of it with her other things. The sword was sheathed at her hip and for the time being, she was rather defenseless as things went. Not that the sword couldn't do damage with her gauntlets off, but it was something akin to beating someone with a pistol instead of firing it - capable, but ridiculous and pointless considering the real potential of the weapon.
The first thing that she heard, upon edging closer to the group, was a girl's muffled singing. They'd made their way to the store room, it seemed, and she wound her way around people to get there. It wasn't as easy as it might have seemed before the fight broke out, just getting from one side of the bar to the other, but she managed to elude the chairs being thrown and fists flying with only a bruise or two on her arms.
The voices were fading though, seeming to move further back in the storeroom. She tried to quicken her pace to catch up with them, before they escaped entirely.
Na'ava follows Doctor Surgeon, Aqua, Chanter, etc.
He had left all of his cooking stuff on top of the ship! Now all Panda had was a rucksack of food and well .. Nothing else. Heck, he didn't even really have enough food! He might be able to make some fries and sell them and then get something but .. URGHHHH!! Panda slammed his paws repeatedly against the sides of his head and grunting in anger, causing the passerbys to look weirdly at him. A child had begun to point and was halfway through saying "Mama! Look! There's a p-" before she was dragged away by an older woman who bore slight resemblance to her.
All XC's plans went down the drain like that, if he had NOTHING TO COOK ON.
. . . .
Removing the paws from his eyes, XC looked down at the girl who had come up and talked to him. Letting out a loud, exaggerated Panda-class sigh, XC sat down on the floor and then put his rucksack on the lap, looking to the girl and then pulling her into a crushing hug against the side, smothering her in the fur of his body.
After a few seconds, XC let go and then started to reply to what the girl had said to him.
"No. I am not alright. I have nothing to cook on. Nothing to cook on - Can't cook. Can't cook, can't sell any food. Can't sell any food, no money. No money, kaput."
[DASH=#F6A8B6]
"Uwaaah, Oof." The girl made silly noises as she was pummeled into a bear hug. She cracked a smile. A bear hug with a panda. It was interesting, Sakura thought faintly as she was released from the embrace and spoken to. She blinked a couple of times, trying to understand his confusion. He seemed to be complaining about an inability to cook. She looked around. Aside from the pink sticky gum-like material, it didn't look like he was using anything else. She leaned over to look inside his knapsack, opening it. She spotted potatoes, onions, and a bottle of something. She reached inside and pulled it out. It was soy sauce. Carefully putting it back into his bag, she looked at him curiously.
"You're a chef." She grinned, she'd never expected to meet a panda who could cook. I have nothing to cook on, nothing to cook on...Oh! That's what he meant! Sakura realized that the panda was a cook, but he didn't have any cooking supplies, only ingredients. Well, that was strange, but who was she to judge? He was a bear aspiring to be a chef. And she was hungry. Sakura stood up, brushed imaginary flecks of dust off her dress and picking up his rucksack, she grabbed his paw to pull him up as well. It was a comedic action mostly, because it was near impossible for the tiny girl to lift both the rucksack, which she had in one hand, and the panda, whom she was trying to pull onto his feet.
"Let's look around! I'm sure someone will be selling the things you need." She offered cheerfully. The people were acting strangely, seeing the panda. Or was it her? She looked down at her brightly colored clothing and shrugged. Maybe she would buy something a little less conspicuous. In the meantime, though, she wanted to help the panda. He seemed terribly distressed and it was their first meeting, too! She couldn't possibly ask him about his journeys or his favorite foods or what kind of lifestyle he lived if he was worried about his cooking utensils.
First things first. Help Mr. Panda find some tools and then I can ask him questions! Sakura was glad. Without any memory jabs, she could enjoy the Panda's company.
[/DASH]
Sakura understands XC's lack of tools and offers to search the marketplace stalls with him.
Skye was heading through the alleys eventually reaching the docks, something inside her liked being there, yet something was missing but whenever she tried to catch them her memories fluttered away out of reach. These airships, where had they been, what shattered pieces of Iwaku had they been to, and their crews and travellers, what had they seen, was there more interesting places than this larger island? Were there even a point to living in this broken world, no one remembered the past and this was just a grey, broken and barren shadow of the old world, what could they achive by just struggling to survive day by day, what were they possibly contributing with? Unless of course something or someone helped the world to heal, but how could the world be healed, the broken pieces gathered and molded together again, could anything ever be the same again? Sighing Skye cast a last glance at an airship before changing course into the town again, the people around her melted into the grey world just as well as she herself did she suspected, somehow colours felt like a rarity now a days, like colours were worth a lot, as a tie to a happier time.
The continued prying into her mind for her memories was starting to give Skye a headache, maybe a drink would get her to relax and get a bit more optimistic, having reached quite deep into the town Skye saw a bar a bit ahead on the street, a battered sign hung above the door showing this was The Runaway On the way there however voices grew louder, crashes and thuds of fists upon bodies told of a bar fight going on, quite a large one as well, Skye was not really in the mood to fight at the moment and decided to skip the drink for now or to find another bar. Rounding the corner she came upon the bar's back door where a group of strangers came out, one of them, a girl, was singing a soothing melody that even rose some of Skye's negative feelings. Her curiosity awoke, they were all a rare sight among the grey mass of lifeless people in Rift Town and flipping some long brown hair over her shoulder she approached them. "Having some trouble at the bar?"
Skye is rather negative and contemplative and also joins the group exiting the bar's back door and enters with a lame intro.
Cressen had finished his meal and beer when the ruckus started to erupt. "This is why I hate crowded places" he mumbled before getting up and summoning a couple of skeletons that broke through the rotting floor. It was just as the skeltons were getting into the fight that a man walked amd a bellow a command for everybody to stop. Not listening, Cressen walked to the nearest wall and using his sword, cut open a new door. Before leaving, Davos turned towards the remaining crowd, while showing the tip of his spirit blade and slide his tongue across it, the mark of the bind pressing against the every sharp and dull tip. "You might want to leave soon, before things get out of hand," hinting at the skeletons he had just let loose in the rampaginh bar. Stepping out of the new door and into the sun and out of the bar, Cressen looked around him, and noticed that very few people took noticed of the noise being emitted from the bar behind him.
Letting his spirit blade slide back into his left sleeve, Cressen felt a pull towards the docks and the need to get out of this fucking over populated town. Turning towards the docks, Davos felt the hot sun burn against the patches of his exposed skin, which created a faint odor of the undead. Cressen knew that he wouldn't have found any of the answers he was looking for in this town, yet he still felt a bit disappointed. Not only did he have no answers, but he also had no new lead to go with and like every other time, was lost with no idea what direction to head in, except for his instict, which really had yet to help him in his search.
It should have been a short walk to the docks, if the streets weren't so bloody crowded and the shifter following him was not helping his pace. Needing a faster way down, Davos stopped in front of an auto repair shop, and commanded the beast to change back, before stepping up to the door and knocked a few times and waited for someone to open the door.
Summary: Cressen and his servant leave the bar, but not before sending his own minions into the fray. After leaving through a newly created door, the two of them stop infront of Spears, Jake amd Marvin's auto repair shop, hoping to buy a vechile to reach the docks quicker.
Raymond watched a rickety airship laboriously lumber up and away from Rift Town. He had missed it by only a scant few minutes, but it might as well of been hours for what that mattered. This was one bounty that had got away.
Putting his pistol back into its shoulder holster he pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes in its place. Glancing at the airship one last time, Raymond turned and walked back into the crowds that swarmed the docklands. A glowing cancer stick was shortly in his mouth. Not like cigarettes would be the end of him. Ten to one he'd end up dead with a bullet, mana blast, or blade in his back before he managed to die of natural causes.
In this ruin of a realm, death by the hands of another was the "natural cause."
Now with his mark firmly outside of his reach Raymond was out of luck on what to do with the rest of his day. He had hoped to catch the slaver and cash in on the prize. But that obviously was not going to be so. So he just found himself walking the twisted cracked streets. Instead of a hurried pace through town, Raymond took his time, his eyes scanning across everything and everyone in front of him.
Without aiming for a particular direction he soon found himself wandering toward the center of town, and away from the docks. This realization brought a half smirk to his face. Maybe he'd gaze at the rust bucket of an airship that rested there. Not like he hadn't wasted enough hours gawking at the old hulk.
[/DASH]
Raymond has "missed the boat" on his latest bounty. Now without anything else to do, he is strolling from the docks to the center of town and the marketplace.
Freakin MAN ugh He thought as he rubbed his tired eyes. Catching up is a pain in the eyes, some of them were so LONG. Wind bags. After he was done rubbing at his eyeballs, Effort hopped up onto his feet and took a big breath through his nostrils, there was adventure in the air.
Spreading his arms apart he jumped from the top of the building he was on and shortly, he was flying. He was mostly an eagle now, his wings were brown with the feathers tipped with black and under his tail was black, his eyes were dark red. Flapping his wings he gained altitude and found an updraft of warm air to help him along and in no time he could see the whole city with his bird's eye vision. It was pretty cool. There were some dude's jogging around, they had backpacks and helmets. Military? Eh lets have a peek. Angling his wings sent him into a sharp decent that spiraled him downward.
His wings caught the air again as he angled them upward and started gliding behind the three of them still a ways up from the ground. He matched their pace. "Sup dudes!" He didn't realize it until just now, that they might react badly to a mostly bird guy flying above them. This realization was quickly forgotten as something else occurred to him, they seemed to have come from the mechanic place. "Say, you guys mechanics? I think you have a customer. But uh...I could fly back there and tell him not to hold his breath." Yeah using his awesomeness for the goodness of others! Then again they might just blow him off, or shoot at him. Hm, too late now.
[size=+1]It's been more than a little while since my last visit to Rift Town. Times have changed, and so has the world; the people I knew have likely moved on. The friends I made then are almost gone.
Almost.
He's as old and as ancient as Rift Town itself, by which I mean fuck knows how old he might be and it doesn't honestly matter because no-one's asking. An old storyteller and beggar who wanders the streets in search of a meal in exchange for a tale or two. He's as blind as a bat, but that doesn't really seem to stop him. Maybe he just knows these streets so well, muscle memory taking him wherever he needs to go. Maybe he's seeing through some other means.
Doesn't matter to me; the old man's good company and even better counsel. I like to seek him out if I can when I find myself in Rift Town, even if it's for nothing more than a chat. I like his attitude to life, one so rare to find in this world we inhabit; everyone else is so preoccupied with surviving, with staying alive, yet here's this old fellow who's taking life as it comes, unconcerned with what tomorrow may bring.
It's a refreshing outlook. One I can admire... though I fear I'll never share it.
I find him in one of his usual haunts, sitting with his back to one of the shacks in the slums. Not exactly a nice part of town, but I've never seen him get into any bother round here. Or anywhere, for that matter. Never asked why; doesn't seem very important, anyway. He's already aware that I'm there even before I seat myself next to him and hold out the small load of bread I've brought him. "Lady of the Winds returns, does she?"the old man observes with a chuckle as he takes the bread, "Still trying to save the world, girl?" "Tha's r'ght," I reply, smiling despite myself. "And how is that particular line of work treating you?"His voice is gravelly and deep, yet warm and friendly. You could easily tell this man tells tales for a living. "Not exactly wha' you'd call great." "I can imagine. You certainly didn't pick for yourself a simple task. Not like the folk you see round here."
He nods towards a nearby house, where a skinny, thin-faced man is sharpening a knife with a stone. "That man's name is Chester. His chosen lot in life is to pick pockets in the markets. He's good at it too, from what I hear; manages to feed his siblings like he promised his mother before Insanity took her."Next he turns and nods towards a small stall run by a bald, sweating man. "And that's Jenner. He spends his days peddling trinkets and small goods to passers-by. He makes enough to eat and keep a roof over his head... barely."
The old man turns back to me. "That's what most people spend their days doing in the time since the Shattering. Looking out for themselves. For their families. They concern themselves with matters such as 'will I have enough to eat tomorrow?', or 'how to I keep my family safe?'."He smiles, almost sadly, and shakes his head. "Not you, though. You're out to save the world from the rut it finds itself in, aren't you girl? Drag this land kicking and screaming back to it's former glory, right?" "If I can, yeah." "Hell of a job you've chosen for yourself, girl. Wouldn't want to be you."With a chuckle, he bites into the loaf, tearing a solid chunk away before passing it back to me. "Now enough of my prattling. This a social call, or can this old man help you with something?" "I'm lookin' f'r a mechan'c. A good 'un, too, not some slack-jaw'd fuckw't who knows how t'beat hisself wit a wrench and not much else. Someone who knows h's r' her trade well." I take a bite out of the bread as the old man laughs. "Such people are few and far between in Rift Town, Miss Winds. Fortunately I do know of one such place that might well be able to help you out. There's an Auto Repair Shop, not too far from here actually, run by three men. Odd bunch. Two of them are the most down-to-earth guys you'll ever meet... but the third's one of the hardiest bastards I've ever encountered. They chiselled him outta rock, I would wager."He takes the bread and finishes it before speaking again. "They know what they're doing, though, that's for sure. They'd probably be your best bet in this old town."
"Is it?" I ask. "Is what?" "Th's town? Is it old?" At this he lets out a booming laugh that causes several passers-by to stop and stare. "And that's why you're good at the job you've chosen for yourself, little miss Lady of the Winds. You're always asking the questions no-one else does."He pulls himself to his feet and points down the dirt road. "If you follow this street until the next right, then follow that street, you'll find the shop I told you about."He gives me a warm smile before starting to wander off. "Do stop by and see me again before you go, girl. Assuming they don't run your ass out of town again, or something." "Y'never asked mah quest'on!" I call after him. He turns around to face me again briefly, still smiling. "Oh I'm well aware of that, girl. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you."
He chuckles. "But that depends on how well you do your job, isn't it?"
And with that he's off, melting into the crowds of Rift Town. I chuckle myself before turning to head to the Auto Repair Shop he told me about.
Like I said, there's I reason I like that old man.
Aeolus meets with a strange old man, who informs her of the location of what she seeks; an Auto Repair Shop run by a trio of mechanics.
An airship glided across the harbor toward one of the docks not crammed with other vessels. For all the despair of this shattered world and lost memories, Iwakuans had not completely forgotten the ancient art of airship-building. Probably since many ships had remained intact. This allowed those who were curious enough to examine them and learn the basic structure. Enough to keep repairing them anyway. Wooden from the bow to the very aft for all one hundred and fifty feet. . . this airship was one of the cheaper ones held together by nothing more than nails and a liberal use of epoxy. Regardless of the rickety design, it did not get any form of pity at the docks where in some sections airships had been tied to other boats.
But this boat had picked up an extra passenger during the last outing.
Legs tanner than most dangled dangerously close to where the powerful engines created guts of flame. Yet the young man seemed utterly oblivious to the temperature which could melt the bare flesh of men if not incinerate them. Out of despair he tried to imagine if there were a real ocean here and with enough effort. . . he succeeded. Bare toes occasionally touched the water to create a microcosm of their own tiny wake withing the larger one created by the vessel. Reflected in the disturbed water, the extra passenger caught a reflection of himself. Not a very good one though, since it was like staring into a poorly made mirror. Eyes bluer than the water itself stared back at him from the distorted doppelganger. He could see everything that he did from a third person perspective. Platinum blond hair blew in what remained of the ocean breeze, yet no matter how messy the winds tried to make it. . . somehow it suited him no matter what. Fingers rough with callouses fiddled with the necklace which hung about the young man's neck strewn with strange looking teeth. Propped up next to him was surfboard that matched his eyes for blueness with a few oddball designs scattered across it for style.
Ever since picking him up, the crew had been wondering what the Surfer had been doing miles up in the air with nothing but his personal paraphernalia. Down in the Captain's quarters a conversation on the very subject had been taking place. Some of the men felt he might somehow be dangerous. Anyone strong enough to get out that far and not die from impact alone certainly could pose a threat. Even to a hardened crew of sailors. Plus any trouble he caused in Rift Town would be on their heads for having brought him into the town. For these reasons, the Captain finally resolved to question the surfer stranger himself.
Coming up onto the top deck, swathed in a royal blue coat, stark white dress pants, and an official captain's hat of that same white shade to boot. Polished boots of ebony approached the Surfer from behind as the Captain grew steadily closer. But there was no ill intent in the moment or bad vibes. Just a curious Captain looking out for his crew's well-being.
"Y'know lad, since we first found ya I been hesitant to ask you questions. Even though it be my ship, I try to respect the privacy of others from time to time. And the way you looked when we found ya. . . ya looked like you had been through a lot. Considering your landing made a hole in the top deck."
It was true, he had not said a word or even smiled for an entire week, acting totally 'out to sea'.
"I'd say you were cast off from another airship, cause even the craziest cuss wouldn't be caught dead that high up in the sky with just a board and the clothes on his back. But me and the crew can't let this silence last much longer. We're approaching port and we need some answers about who ya are and all that. I know that the times right now ain't granting many the luxury of remembering their life story. But we can't be very well just letting some beach bum run loose in Rift Town either. Not without even knowing your name."
Now all eyes were on the Surfer.
"Well Captain I guess you're right. I at least owe you dudes my name."
Placing both hands on the edges of the ship's back end where his backside was also resting, a relaxed sigh came out as he leaned back. Mellow to the core. Just the way he looked and definitely the way he sounded gave anyone paying attention those vibes of experience. No way was this guy a kook or a schooly. Certainly not the type who was into surfing, or anything he did in life for the fame, money, or popularity. Tropicana was totally the way he seemed. . . a true blue "soul surfer".
"Name's Orion, Captain Brah."
Mere seconds went by before they got the closest to a life story they ever would.
"Can't remember much besides my skills, the stars, . . . and that I came here lookin' for some killer waves. But this place is straight up soggy. Need to find a place with mondo waves or some answers. Anyway! I'm peacin' Brahs. Catch you dudes later!"
Suddenly, he grabbed the surfboard and jumped straight off the back of the airship. Though he did not smile openly, there was a twinkle in each eye just from hitting what came next. Right on the air itself Orion started to rip without even a moment's hesitation straight toward the docks themselves on a collision course. Leaning sideways, his hand ran along the surface of the imaginary ocean spray as several onlookers gazed with a stupified look of sheer surprise at what this innocent looking blue-eyed stranger had accomplished.
Upon nearing the dock, Orion took an otherworldly leap from his board onto the dock itself. Kept in tow by the wrist strap was his trusty board which found itself sent airborne thanks to a hearty tug of his muscular arm. Quickly he unfastened the safety strap and rendered it a potential projectile until the unbelievable occurred. Catching it one-handed and tucking it underneath his arm in one fluid motion, the Surfer proceeded to walk down the docks until getting further into Rift Town. Place had some bad vibes coursing through it but that could not be helped. So instead he tried to seek out what felt like good vibes.
Making his way toward what seemed like an immense crowd, Orion decided to show some consideration for personal space. Plus lighten his load at the same time. Just a simple toss sent his surfboard airborne once more above the heads of everyone around him. Nearly eight feet into the air! But that was a common feat compared to what came next during the descent. For when it landed in the palm of his hand. . . it had transformed into nothing more than a keychain replica of the full-sized board. Giving a toothy smile to his temporary audience, Orion merely started to twirl the keychain around his pointer finger with all the innocence of a common habit.
"Whatcha lookin' at ya Murphs?"
Coy was the best way to describe the mellow tone escaping his lips aimed at those around him. Sensing the mondo bad vibes from the Runaway, he avoided it like he avoided any man in the gray suit. Everything in the town was unfamiliar to him. Just how long had this guy been out to sea? All the while Orion was unconsciously yet steadily closing in on Chef-Fu Panda and Sakura. While he got bad vibes from XC, in the sense of how un-mellow the guy was. . . Sakura seemed like the nicest person in the crowd. Orion did not know why but it certainly made him curious enough to keep venturing closer.
Until the moment of introduction, which came with an honest smile and a twinkle in each eye.
"S'up fuzzy dude and not-as-fuzzy dudette?"
Summary:
Orion arrives in Rift Town. Stuns a few people at the docks with his otherworldly surfing skill by surfing on the air itself. Totally avoids the bar fight. Sees a Panda and Sakura. Totally heads right for them with a smile on his face and a twinkle in each eye. And then greets them.
Adventure stories! They can be fantasy, modern, sci-fi, all kinds! Give me some good world travel stories and I'm all over it! I also enjoy romance stories and even though I tend to play females I love playing gay men.
[dash=#784241]Who paid attention to a strange man with a glimmery crown? Clearly it wasn't as out of place as Zypher had anticipated. He chuckled to himself as he waited outside the bar, but the sounds of a fight soon echoed in his ears. Fearing getting mistaken for a troublemaker, or worse, having a chair hit him as it was thrown out of the bar he decided to make his exit, stage right.
Walking briskly away from the bar, he could take in more of the sights of Rift Town, not that there were many to take in. A few ramshackle buildings and such, nothing else of note. It seemed that Zypher's triumphant return as Regent would be delayed. People here had more serious concerns, like survival. He paused for a moment and wondered what sort of creatures might roam the wilds. A flash of a forest crossed his mind, a burning wreckage pressed up against the falling ruins of a tower. A memory? Maybe. Who really had those anymore anyway?
Zypher shook the thought, if he was going to survive here, even if he wasn't recognized as regent he'd have to find some allies. Maybe he'd go and have a nice little talk with the people he had seen at the docks where his tower had crash landed. Yes, that seems like a good plan. Zypher thought to himself. He turned on his heel and began to head back and hopefully he wasn't turned around. He knew he was new in this town and despite it's relatively small size he couldn't afford to turn down the wrong alleyway and get robbed of his lovely, shiny crown. It, of course, figured, when he did exactly that, heading in another alleyway just behind the garage.
"Lookie here Clem, looks like we gots one o' thems fancy pants rich fellers!" A man crowed from on top of a fence, jumping down to block Zypher's passage. Zypher turned around only to find his escape route being blocked by a beast of a man, Zypher'd wager he was nearly seven feet tall, probably had the blood of a troll somewhere in his family tree. Noobs...wonderful Zypher bit his tongue from saying something nasty and instead drew his pistols. "Listen, fellas, I don't want any trouble..." Zypher said, backing away from the troll and nearly knocking over the smaller bandit.
"Aw, Clem, he don't want no trouble, I say we punch him up and take his shiny pointy hat." The two would-be bandits laughed together. Zypher gulped.
[/dash]
Zypher tries to get back to the docks but gets lost and is about to be attacked by a couple of inbreed less-than-pleasant noobs.
[DASH=#F6A8B6] Sakura was both confused and delighted. She had been trying, unsuccessfully, might she add, to pull the panda-man off the ground. He was pretty heavy compared to the things she was used to pulling. Or maybe she was just weak? She couldn't tell. But now she was faced with another dilemma. A man with the bluest eyes she had ever seen was talking to her in a speech that she couldn't quite understand. Something about fuzzy? Must be directed to mr. pandy, something about sup...supper? Is he hungry? Sakura nodded eagerly, "Yup! Mister fuzzy panda is most definitely a cook, he'll make you supper!" She exclaimed,"Don't worry. He's got onions and things in bag so must he be a real chef..."
She paused, her smile fell for a moment, "But he doesn't have anything to cook on, you see. So I was trying to get him to look around with me and see if someone was selling pots or pans to cook on! I'm kind of hungry, too." She smiled brightly again, because something about the strange, brightly dressed man made her feel happy. He seemed like a cheerful fellow. She could just tell by the way he looked. She let go of the panda's arm, giving up on her failing struggle to force him to get up and go with her. He seemed like he would be in remorse for a long time before he would take action. She was hoping to encourage him to get it together. She was also hoping to get lunch. That would be a nice plus.
She looked over at the stranger again, realizing they hadn't made introductions. At the same time, his words filtered through her mind again. "Dude?" She asked aloud, confused. She looked down at mister panda, "Oh! Is your name Dude, mister panda?" Then he must think I am Dodette! Odette is a pretty name, but Dodette? I've never heard it before..
Sakura shook her head quickly and smiled at Orion, "Sorry, my name is Sakura, not Dodette."
[/DASH]
Sakura misunderstands a lot of Orion's surfer logo, but manages to tell him Panda's situation and introduce herself.
It varies a lot depending on my schedule, unfortunately.
Writing Levels
Advanced
Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Psychological horror
Body horror
Supernatural
Giallo
Splatterpunk
Dark fantasy
Historical
Low fantasy
Magipunk
Weird West
Noir
Thriller
Gothic horror
Southern Gothic
Gaslamp fantasy
Cyberpunk
Space saga
Clockpunk
Space Western
Space opera
Paranormal
Modern fantasy
Dieselpunk
Post-Apocalyptic
Crime drama
Medieval fantasy
There were people in my hiding place. Too many for a fair fight. I kept out of sight in the shadowed corner, wiping sticky fingers on my skirt, but then one of them found me, pointed at me, tracing the line of thread which crossed the bridge of my nose and the arches of my cheeks. There were similar lines at my knees, elbows, and the valley of my breasts, but only my knees and face were visible. He wasn't truly touching me, but my skin crawled all the same. Those stitches weren't to be pointed out; they were personal. I stared at him with narrowed yellow eyes, my muscles coiling in preparation to spring.
I didn't even care when they started to file out the door. I was too far gone, all logic and sense out the window as I lunged forward, my hands rippling as the bones in my fingers extended into wickedly curved talons. They sunk into the shoulder of the last one out, yanking him backward as the back door of the bar swung shut in his face. Spinning him, I shoved him down against the floorboards, throwing the weight of my knee onto his chest and pressing my elbow into his throat, the claws of my other hand a few scant inches from his eye. Panting, I nudged him hard- a warning.
I hissed. I wasn't going to be easily pushed around. I might be small, but I had the element of surprise, and I had my own special tricks.
As I looked down at him, though, eyes on his bloody nose, I began to calm. This man hadn't done anything to me. I had the upper hand, and he'd been shown I wasn't easy prey. I let up the pressure on his windpipe, but left my claws as they were.
