Alim Arslan Yafir
As Alim walked toward the pier, he couldn't help but speculate and (perhaps unfairly) judge the roster so far. Naudar was a potential surprise - everyone in the party was a potential surprise - but if he proved to be consistent, Alim could expect a regular nerd with an ego to rival the Tower of Babel. Not too unlike himself, before he was humbled greatly by the underworld. Only in the privacy of his own thoughts can he confess this: he agreed with Razin on this one. Unless this wonder-boy has some dead language memorized by heart or a band of mercenaries hidden up his ass, then Naudar serves no other purpose than a loud mouth that needs feeding - and unless they're cracking advanced Greek contraptions at Xerxes' lair, then Alim can fill in the calculations and 'unintended security bypassing'.
The rest, well, he's made up his mind about them. All naive and dangerous at the same time. All stupid and clever at the same time. All predictable and unpredictable. At the same time. Alim held all these beliefs close to heart, but he's never stupid enough to consider the conflict in these statements. 'Better safe than sorry,' he calmed himself. Only the inexperienced would neatly categorize complex people into one or two traits, and only the wizened would think a person incapable of change. The last time he did one of these things, he either lost gold, or blood - both losses cut harshly.
The area around where that damned Puntling had gotten busy with spectators: sailors with the smell of sea salt and diluted grog clinging to their breath, gawking at the lady in the splashy pond like children seeing ducks for the first time. Alim also spied the characteristic feathery plumes of an Inspector chicken, bobbing around the crowd and probably cawing about regulations and fines and other idiocy. A risk of detection, and more than enough muscle to hold him at bay until the Headmen can show up and find his neck a permanent string home. Great.
Alim glanced around to make sure there weren't any active spectators, catching a glance of Errol moving past him. Bird-boy can serve as a further distraction for the officials while he did his little 'transformation'. First, he gave his gear a double-take, just making sure none of his conspicuous weapons or gear would be caught by eye or touch. After he was confident, he checked again - after he was confident a second time, he resumed. No one expects a lowly cowardly serf to be a dastardly asshole criminal - at least, according to Alim. His back became slightly more hunched, his face more upbeat and serf-like, and his arms began rubbing against each other nervously.
"P-Pardon me, gentlemen! If I may... very terribly sorry, sir... I must proceed..." A humble, slightly scared voice came out of Alim as he cordially passed through the crowd of sailors, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the Inspector. Making his way to the edge, he saw no sign of the Puntling except for bubbles popping at the surface. Of course she was submerged, what did you think, she's tall enough to stand up? Carrying on with the meek persona, Alim glanced around muttering 'oh dear's before settling on a solution. Grabbing a handful of little trash bits and scraps from the dock floor, he chucked a handful of the stuff at the bubbles, hoping that the splash - or the sinking trash - would catch her attention. Should she surface, he'd pull... oh who knows, some dubious shit like "Good heavens, my lady! We're about to be late, you must come!"
@Applo @MiharuAya
As Alim walked toward the pier, he couldn't help but speculate and (perhaps unfairly) judge the roster so far. Naudar was a potential surprise - everyone in the party was a potential surprise - but if he proved to be consistent, Alim could expect a regular nerd with an ego to rival the Tower of Babel. Not too unlike himself, before he was humbled greatly by the underworld. Only in the privacy of his own thoughts can he confess this: he agreed with Razin on this one. Unless this wonder-boy has some dead language memorized by heart or a band of mercenaries hidden up his ass, then Naudar serves no other purpose than a loud mouth that needs feeding - and unless they're cracking advanced Greek contraptions at Xerxes' lair, then Alim can fill in the calculations and 'unintended security bypassing'.
The rest, well, he's made up his mind about them. All naive and dangerous at the same time. All stupid and clever at the same time. All predictable and unpredictable. At the same time. Alim held all these beliefs close to heart, but he's never stupid enough to consider the conflict in these statements. 'Better safe than sorry,' he calmed himself. Only the inexperienced would neatly categorize complex people into one or two traits, and only the wizened would think a person incapable of change. The last time he did one of these things, he either lost gold, or blood - both losses cut harshly.
The area around where that damned Puntling had gotten busy with spectators: sailors with the smell of sea salt and diluted grog clinging to their breath, gawking at the lady in the splashy pond like children seeing ducks for the first time. Alim also spied the characteristic feathery plumes of an Inspector chicken, bobbing around the crowd and probably cawing about regulations and fines and other idiocy. A risk of detection, and more than enough muscle to hold him at bay until the Headmen can show up and find his neck a permanent string home. Great.
Alim glanced around to make sure there weren't any active spectators, catching a glance of Errol moving past him. Bird-boy can serve as a further distraction for the officials while he did his little 'transformation'. First, he gave his gear a double-take, just making sure none of his conspicuous weapons or gear would be caught by eye or touch. After he was confident, he checked again - after he was confident a second time, he resumed. No one expects a lowly cowardly serf to be a dastardly asshole criminal - at least, according to Alim. His back became slightly more hunched, his face more upbeat and serf-like, and his arms began rubbing against each other nervously.
"P-Pardon me, gentlemen! If I may... very terribly sorry, sir... I must proceed..." A humble, slightly scared voice came out of Alim as he cordially passed through the crowd of sailors, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the Inspector. Making his way to the edge, he saw no sign of the Puntling except for bubbles popping at the surface. Of course she was submerged, what did you think, she's tall enough to stand up? Carrying on with the meek persona, Alim glanced around muttering 'oh dear's before settling on a solution. Grabbing a handful of little trash bits and scraps from the dock floor, he chucked a handful of the stuff at the bubbles, hoping that the splash - or the sinking trash - would catch her attention. Should she surface, he'd pull... oh who knows, some dubious shit like "Good heavens, my lady! We're about to be late, you must come!"
@Applo @MiharuAya