Shu's Quest

[CATS]

"Where did they go? I dunno. Maybe they're still here somewhere. If I was an arena champion, I'd totally stick around and do more arena fights and be famous and stuff. Why would you do something really cool like that, then leave right after you got popular? I guess if you think they left though, then they probably did. After all, you're the smart one, Fuego. There is that one place, to the south I think? Oaktree? Maybe they went there! That place is supposed to be super awesome and happy, even if they're not there, it'll be fun to visit. Let's check it out!" Klints said. He slightly raised up a section of the ground in front of them, then stepped onto it and motioned for Fuego to join him.

"I do need to practice my dirt-surfing, after all. I bet I can get us to Oaktree in like, no time at all! This is gonna be great fun!"

---

A small man entered the empty warehouse, finding only the two halves of Shu's body to greet him.

"So you truly did die, did you? I scarcely believed it when I heard the news, but I suppose my information was reliable after all. Such a shame, such a shame! We had some good times together, we did, some real shenanigans, you and I. Whatever will I do now? Morgen and Noah, they are not nearly as amusing. Not nearly. To make matters worse, I will have to recruit for a replacement now, what a bother that will be! You know how much I loathe recruitment, sifting through reams of idiots merely to find a single diamond in the rough. So very tedious. Oh, but look at this! Here I am rambling yet again, and you're not even alive to hear it anymore! Silly me!"

The man was silent for a moment. Had anyone else been present in the warehouse, they would've noticed a significant change in his demeanor.

"My source also told me that this was a case of friendly fire, so to speak. Ironic, that one of our cell should be killed in such a manner. On the other hand, it means that your murderers will be answering to me soon enough. Not only did they kill my associate, but they've now dumped me with the mind-numbingly aggravating task of recruiting a replacement, and out of my three colleagues, they even managed to kill the funny one. I must admit, no assignment could give me greater pleasure. Rest in peace, Shu."

The man left.

[Android]

Andy

A man sat in front of a workbench in a small tent, his head brushing against the top as he worked. He examine a minute cog carefully, filing the edges of the grooves slowly. After a couple minutes, he grabbed another cog of the bench and put the two together to be sure that they fit. Glad to see that they turned well, he pulled over a metal casing. The casing appeared similar to a leg, and where the calf would be there was an opening, filled with cogs and gears of various size. With great precision, the man placed the two cogs deep in the within the casing. Satisfied with his work, the large man leaned back and relaxed, at least until a large caravan nearby dropped it's load and knocked half of the gears of their pegs. Resisting the urge to flip the whole damn bench over, he put down his loupe eye glass and stepped outside to take a break.

Andy gave a sigh. As far as he was concerned, Corthone was the city with the most misused potential that ever exited. The free-flowing nature of the city made it sure that he could get the he could get any of the materials he needed for his work, but.... this same nature is what kept him from having a steady workplace handy. Not that it would matter that much if they hadn't been stationed here the past couple weeks. The organization had been fixated on some cube which was in the are lately, which had some sort of influence on the world's balance, or something like that. Andy wasn't quite sure how it worked, but it was wisest not to question the decisions of the higher-ups. Those that did were found with body parts scattered all around.

Andy walked around the busy marketplace. It was a usual day, with plenty of the merchants yelling at him to assuring him how he needed their "magicaly-enhanced sord" or promising that their "healing kites" could take care of any medical issues he had. He just ignored them; all of but the most pestering dealers left it alone at that, and the rest were driven away by an annoyed glance. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for: he saw Drin and Free talking nearby. Pretty hard to miss, those two.

He put his hand on Drin's shoulder. "Not talking about me behind my back, I hope."

[mr_e_s]

Fuego

"I know because if I were them, and I realized the caliber of men that were fighting over something they had, I wouldn't stay anywhere near the scene of their duel. We know Eisig didn't kill them, because Mr. Lighting's is the only body, and it's unlikely they're a group, as their appearance in an arena would suggest they're wanting for money, something Eisig could fix somewhat handily, given his position. No, I think the situation unfolded more like this: This group of sell-swords ran into an operative known as the Jester. Somehow they managed to get the drop on a member of internal affairs, an impressive feat, admittedly, but not unheard of. Not knowing what they had when they killed him, they just took the phylactery with them. Having found nothing of any known value on the body, they needed the cash just to survive here, thus the arena fight. They were doing fairly well, but somehow either Eisig or Mr. Lightning noticed the cube, maybe both. Mr. Lightning said this morning he had some business to attend to. We can probably assume this was it." Fuego took a breath. "Eisig, whether he noticed the cube first or not, saw his chance, and struck out at Mr. Lightning, but he wasn't able to finish it in the first strike, and the two of them dueled. One of the sell-swords caught a lightning bolt as a bolt was likely deflected by one of Eisig's tricky ice maneuvers. Or perhaps he had the cube and he was struck down to avoid Eisig taking it, his intentions might have been known.... Or..." Too many variables, he couldn't really be sure.

"Either way, they're probably headed South. These kind of sell-swords need a population to make their money, bullying little mountain towns won't net them the income they want. Our best bet would to be to take the main southern road, down to Oakheim, and Corthrone, if we can;'t find them by then...this will be harder, we may have to use some contacts that we-well, I have to find them in that case.

[rn7]

Fargo walked back to the group, finding they were talking something or other about selling or scamming, he wasn't quite sure which. He doubted any one here would be scammed though, most people had been around the world and have had their share of bum deals.

But speaking of bum deals, the little thing that got them here bothered Fargo a bit. Fargo approached Stark.

"Oh, hey, Stark. You know that cube that light bulb guy was all tossin' over about? I don't think it's really worth all the trouble. You oughta pawn it off, I mean it's no use to us, right? The way I see it, it'll only draw attention to us. I mean that magic duel was superbadass, but your icy friend won't always be there to bail us out, right? What's your story with that guy, any way?"

Fargo rubbed his forearms. Kind of amazing how well the medicine worked. He'd have to remember not to overdo it next time they had to fight gargoyles and lions.

[Purg]

Drin smiled. "Just the man I wanted to see. There were words, but nothing more than wondering where you were, although I think it's clear now that those are obsolete." The man towered over him, and Drin knew that if he so chose, he could break him over his knee - but Andrew was a good man, followed orders well, and got along with everyone. He wondered if, perhaps, it was because of the arm that he and Free had made for the younger man - obedience through gratitude, perhaps - but pushed that idea aside. He had rather think that his comrades treated him well because they enjoyed his company and his ideas. He quickly briefed in the colossus, reminded him about the mission, and briefed him on what the fortune teller said. She wasn't the best of sources, clearly, but it was a mystical item they were after, so a reader of fates had far better chances to find it.

"Be- Free, I mean - you can do whatever you'd like. Andrew, the same applies to you. And Tim, if you're around, you too can choose what you'll do. I'm going to look for our target, though - I'd appreciate any help the two, or three, of you could offer, but I understand if you all would rather tend to your own tasks." He turned away from the two men, walking deeper into the sprawling marketplace. The largest issue would be the sheer size of the marketplace, as well as the number of people. There could easily be thousands of people that could have the cube, and there was also the chance that they had already come and gone. The fortune teller had told him that he would, but wouldn't find it - perhaps it was already too late.

He began searching through the tents, not quite sure what he was looking for - he knew what the cube was supposed to look like, but he was almost certain that whoever had it wouldn't be showing it off. He would just have to rely on instincts - as a man of technology, he had let them dull over time, but he would trust them.

~-~

"He only came after you after you dropped it, that's true," Dom said as he leaned against the side of the caravan, having recently returned from seeing the sights. He hadn't made any purchases - there was nothing he needed, really. "It appears to be important enough to risk his life to obtain it, although selling it may not be the best option. Perhaps you should get it appraised..."

"But I'm also curious about your relationship to Eltiar. It's not often you have friends willing to take lightning bolts to protect you." Dom didn't expect an answer - not yet, at least. He had only known Stark for a single day. And he wasn't sure he would be so forthcoming about his own past, as boring as it was.

Edited August 30, 2010 by Purg

[rn7]

"Don't fret, I'll come back with a few postcards." Free left the others to their own and pursued his personal business. He paced around in circles for a minute or so, scanning the building every now and then. The building was quite big and grand, as it housed pretty much everything but a market. At any given time it would be crowded to the brim with people, especially guards, which made infiltration more of a bother than it had to be.

From outside, it was hard exactly to figure out a plan. He needed to get inside, and feel the innards of the grand government house. With that in mind, Free found a nice secure place to stow all his chemicals, tools, and clothes, and quickly acquired a new set of clothing from a vendor. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as he would have hoped, and it was needlessly flashy. It came with a nice straw hat though. However, the hat in no way matched the rest of the clothes. Free figured that it just served his purposes and wore it any way. Free made his way to the building.

As soon as he got to the door, Free was frisked and scanned while being told about the various services inside. Some registration or passport thing, apparently, as well as the ground rules for the visit there. The search was over quickly, and the guards let Free on through.

Free's eyes widened as he walked inside. What looked like a drab gray pile of stones on the outside was nothing short of a palace inside. Long arches, reaching over and touching each other held up the higher levels. A huge domed circle rounded the central area, and it was immense and deep that it seemed the dome itself was moving. The floors were pure marble, shined to a reflective gaze and littered with ornate patterns. Apparently, they were telling the history and founding of Corthrone, from a simple crossroads to a sprawling moving market. Lining the walls were tall columns, engraved with the names of every laborer and merchant who ever put their work into the creation of the building. A dizzying long list, and yet somehow it maintained the neutrality of the place, never favoring one name over another. A free market, just like outside.

Free had no time for history though. As nice as it was, the glamor of the place would not help him find his product. Free continued on. There were numerous rooms in the building, each with a specific purpose. Water supply, judicial affairs, foreign relations, budget discussion, monetary disputes. There were also odd ones, like the Road Sign Committee. All of them seemed full, all of the time, which seemed odd to Free. How much does one need to discuss about road signs? As Free passed by each door, he took a mental inventory of the exits, the windows, the approximate size and capacity of rooms. He considered the mean distance from any point in the building to an exit route, and made note of when the patrol routes passed by that particular route. While deep in though, Free accidentally bumped into an armored guard, causing Free to fall over.

"Oof! Oh my, I'm sorry, sir! Doesn't seem I was paying attention there!" Free apologized to the towering giant of metal.

The guard flipped up his helmet and looked down at Free, then helped him up. "No problem. Don't get too many visitors here. You oughta turn back though."

"Oh! Is this a restricted area? I am so..."

"No, no, but it is the prison area. It's a gruesome place, and I don't recommend tourists go in there."

"Oh! Oh my. I guess you're right. I'll be going now." If the designers of the place had any sense, then that door there was the sole entrance and exit from the prison. It wasn't really worth pursuing much further. Free continued his tour of the building.

It was deep afternoon when Free finally exited. He had his entrance plan and escape plan completely worked out. All that was left was to set it in motion.

[CATS]

"Yep. That sure was a mouthful, Fuego. I'm not really sure what you said, but it probably made sense. Let's go!"

Klints zipped away on a trail of moving earth, sending the two of them surging off to the south. It was about a day's walk from Alabaste to Corthrone, so half a day to Oakheim, which was right in between. That was only on foot, though. Klints was moving at somewhere around 10-50 times usual walking speed, so he managed to hit Oakheim in 15 minutes or so.

"Jeez! What a shithole this place is! Crazy, it was so nice here when I came through a while back. Looks like a big monster or something got really mad at Oakheim. Poor old Oakheim. So what now? I bet they're not here, but maybe we could look for signs of what happened?" Klints said.

[lunarAegis]

Jeph

It was good to know that he's got a leg to stand on should he need it. Jeph decided now would be an opportune time to wander around Corthrone.. See the sights, hear the sounds, think things over. His whole life had suddenly been uprooted, and he'd been wandering around in a stupor for... how long had it been any ways? He only had spotty memories of what happened, like the arena fight and so on. Jeph decided it'd be best if he sorted out his assets and priorities. With some coins he found in his bag, he purchased some parchment and a bit of charcoal. He then wrote the following lists.

Past events and results:

-Lost job, got reaaaaaally drunk.

-Oakheim destroyed and evacuated. Sister dead?

-Arrival in Alabaste.

-(Somehow got armour)

-Fight in arena. <===Why did this happen?

-Kyle killed, new people arrived. Left Alabaste for Corthrone.

-Arrival in Corthrone

Assets:

-One sword, too good quality. Questionable origin.

-One suit of scale mail armour. Questionable origin.

-Prize money.

-List of events, assets, and priorities.

-Charcoal, one piece.

Priorities:

-Eat.

-Fill holes in past events.

-Obtain necessities for life (clothing, shelter, etc.)

Seems easy enough, I'll just ask around. Thought Jeph.

He purchased a loaf of bread and a skin of mead from a foodstuffs vendor. The price was lower than it would have been in Oakheim. He figured that was because the taxes were probably lower here. He tore a chunk off the loaf as he walked back to the cart. Fargo, Stark, and Dom were having a conversation, so Jeph listened in while consuming his first meal he remembered in a while.

---

A man in a brown leather overcoat and what appeared to be a servant wearing black bandages over his whole body walked through the remains of the less charred buildings in Oakheim. The man in the overcoat held a cloth over his mouth and nose with one hand, and pointed at sections of rubble with his other hand. The servant cleared the directed sections of rubble. One such cleared section of rubble revealed a mostly intact human corpse. The man in the overcoat directed that the servant back away, and then approached the body. There were minor burns on the surface, but the heavy stones had mostly protected it from the flames that had destroyed the city. He placed his hand on the stomach of the corpse and spoke a few words under his breath. The corpse glowed faintly white, then the man stood.

"Return this one to the wagon, and then we shall be departing on my command" spoke the man to the servant.

In a low, almost inhuman voice, the servant replied "yes, Surgeon." The bandaged humanoid collected the corpse and walked away. Surgeon surveyed the ruins of the town. It had been a nice city for a while, before the local lord realized he had power. He was inherently broken, that man. He had an illness, and it was Surgeon's job to fix it.

He intended to do his job..

[rn7]

It was late evening when Free set out. It was about the time dinner was served in the main hall. Free figured he had about five minutes of leeway, considering the distance from the kitchen to the dining room. A good amount of time, considering he only needed just a moment. Free adjusted his labcoat and tightened his goggles. He felt around in his chemical arsenal and produced a vial of greenish liquid.

"Solution seems stable enough. Reduced concentration compared to prior trials. I wonder if it is sufficient." Free shook up the container, causing the substance inside to react. Free poured the liquid on the ground, causing the ground it was on to shake and rumble a bit. Free got a considerable distance then dashed to the the ground, at the last second so he was directly over it. A sudden burst of wind exploded from the ground and lifted Free up to the sky. He overshot a bit, once again, and flailed his arms helplessly as he was being tossed into the sky. He landed flat on his back on the roof of the building, groaning and massaging his shoulder out of pain.

"Oh, the biggest issue with my practice, the need for such minuscule precision." Free got up, and checked all his supplies. No damages. Good.

Free slid down the roof and down to the second floor. He walked around the thin railing, until he was right outside the kitchen window. Free got out another two vials from his coat. One was filled with a reddish powder, and the other with a golden yellow liquid. Free steadied his hands and carefully, with pinpoint precision, administered a minute amount of the first substance to the second, then quickly closed it up with a glass stop. He then chucked the solution through the slightly open window.

Free checked his pocket watch. There were about two minutes left. Just barely enough time. He quickly made his way over to another window, peering inside. About ten figures or so, painting what seemed like smiley faces over apples, or perhaps the opposite, all got up at the same time and left the room. The postmodern painters were satisfied with the vague abstractness of their works and were all going to the nextdoor cafe to snort smugly at the uncultured masses who could not comprehend their genius. Free took the chance to enter through the window, which was wide open, to accommodate the painters' desire to have the full essence of the moon wash over their creative spirits. Free cared little for such things, as he was running low on time. He got another solution from his coat, and applied it to the legs of the frames the paintings were mounted on. A corrosive substance which would slowly eat away at the wooden frame, causing it to eventually give and break down.

Free exited through the door and entered the hallway. The prison was down on the opposite side. Two guards stood there, and their shift was about to end, but Free couldn't count on that, particularly. He gazed down at his watch, smiling as he saw the time.

There was a small bang coming from the kitchen, nothing major. Rather, the major thing was the entire kitchen was being engulfed with thick smoke. The solution Free put in the kitchen had finally burst from its container, causing a major distraction in the kitchen-- a room entirely on the opposite end of the government house. Free looked over at the guards and saw them talking worriedly about the sound, considering leaving their post to investigate. But the one on the left disagreed, saying it was none of their business and besides, their shift was about to run out.

The painters had finished their coffee and were coming back to paint some more blobby masses on canvas. It was quiet for a while, but soon, a loud crash came from the room. The frames had finally broken, and just as the guards were beginning to switch off, as well. All four guards now ran over to the art room to investigate, while Free took the opportunity to creep into the prison.

He quickly made his way down a spiral stairway, much taller and longer than it needed to be. The insides were barely lit with some torches hanging off the wall, and it smelled of something completely revolting. Free quickly made his way through the area, sweeping around to find where they kept the confiscated goods. He came across a locked door, and it was only logical that what he sought was behind that door. Free pondered what to do. He wasn't quite the sneak like Tim was, so he couldn't snatch the key out of thin air, and he wanted to make sure that it wasn't obvious that someone broke in. On the other hand, the lock was rusted and worn. It wouldn't be surprising if it broke off with a little push.

Deciding that was the best course of action, Free applied the powder he recently acquired from the market, along with some other solution. He rubbed it deep within his hands until a tingly feeling rushed all around them. Then, with a clap, a sharp packet of air snapped from his hands and cut off the lock. Free brushed aside the remains and walked inside.

Large piles and piles of confiscated goods were in here, much more than Free had expected. Some didn't even looked like they belonged here. It was a surprising amount, no doubt worth several thousands. None of it really concerned Free, however. He found his product sitting in a pile in the corner, grabbed it, and went on his way. Using a heat solution, Free got the two parts of the lock, and melted it back together. Aside from being blobby on one side, it was as if it was never touched.

There was one last piece of business he had to attend to. His product wasn't exactly legal, and it would prove quite troublesome if the vendor that got him the product were to talk, specifically about him. Free made his way to the jail area.

It was like a holding pen for livestock. Only lit by a single candle in the center. Most of the inmates were asleep. Most assuredly, the ones caged here would be dying soon by execution for their crimes. Free quickly glanced amoung the masses until he found the correct person. Without a moment's hesitation, Free jabbed the man with a needle, injecting a small amount of poison in his body. Then he did it again, to another, completely unrelated person. And another. Then with the rest of the poison, Free tainted the inmates' water supply.

All to throw off the suspicions of an assassination attempt. Three dead guaranteed dead from poison, others possibly sick or dead by the same poison. The blame would be put on the water supply. And to even further throw off the suspicions, the poison took two days to work, and three days to fully affect a host, at which point they would die.

Satisfied, Free made his way out of the prison, and to the main hallway. The guards had just finished cleaning up for the artists, who insisted such a laborious concept as cleaning up after one's self was not for the cultured, fine souls that they were. Free ignored all the commotion, and exited through the Road Sign Committee room, mission completed without a single hitch.

Edited August 31, 2010 by rn7

[Dark Sage]

Suddenly, a dude with huge muscles streaked across the RP shouting "Release the BOGUS!"

[mr_e_s]

Whistler

"You know, Beaker, you could have just asked."

I was waiting for him outside the only standing structure in Corthrone. I knew the good doctor well enough to piece together what he was doing from the little info he had. It's funny how little pieces of info can just find their way to you if you listen well enough. I've got something of a special talent for it, myself. Other people have different talents I know there's some guys out there who control nature or whatever, and a guy who can make the monsters of the world do his bidding or something like that. I can't really do any of those things. But I can listen, and I can get places I might not ought to be in.

Y'see, my story starts a while back. Probably even 25 years ago. At the tender age of three. I was a happy kid, even for a three year old. Never really cried, all them three year old girls loved me. I had like 5 girlfriends, I was a straight up hustler, alright, still am. Anyways, back then, there was this kid, name of Matthew. Not Matt or Matty, Matthew. So this kid Matthew right, he thinks he's hot shit, thinks he should get whatever he wants, thinks his shit don't stink, ya get me? Probably an only child. Anyways, he came up to me one day, and said he wanted my red ball. I'd like to pause from the story to say, this was a really nice red ball, not one of those shitty worn out ones you see lying on the side of the road. Man I had just gotten this for my birthday, and it was the shit! So you can understand me for not having wanted to part with it. I tell him no, and he just sort of puffs out his chest and then he winds up and punches me square in the face. This is one of those moment of truth, of realization. Except all I realized there was, I ain't much of a fighter. Never did see my red ball again.

The next story happened a couple of weeks later a-where are you going? Wait! Fine! I'll get back to the story about Corthrone. Geeze, I was just trying to give you some background! Right, so outside the government building. So Beaker comes out of this building, right, and I'm sitting there all cool-like, wearing my full on get-up, robes and all that. And I said "You know Beaker, you could have just asked." Cause breaking into places and grabbing shit, that's my specialty. You could say I excel at it.

...I really miss that red ball sometimes, y'know?

Stark

"Heh, yeah, you could be right about this thing. I dunno what we'd sell it as, but maybe if the mood so strikes or the price is right, we'll get rid of it. Not like it's done us any good at all." Stark briefly had a flash of the dead body being hauled out of the bar. He wasn't really sure why he'd held on to that cube this long, but it seemed like kind of a link, to before that fire, when he was just a guy in a bar, getting entertained by another guy juggling and stacking three beer bottles.

Stark kind of left the group after that. It wasn't that he wasn't fond of them or anything. He actually kind of liked most of the guys he'd been thrown together by fate with. He just needed a little private time... Among the energetic throng of merchants and buyers that was Corthrone. It was really pretty amazing, still, even though he'd been here quite a bit in his old life. It never really stopped amazing him how the city itself was alive, always moving, always loud, always open.Even at 4am, there'd still be merchants open so they could sell more wares while their opponents were asleep. Only problem was, their opponents had the same idea. The City That Never Sleeps. Stark had read that about Corthrone in one of those rookie adventure guides. He laughed at the thing at the time, but however it had been written at the time, Stark could really appreciate it these days. He hadn't been getting much sleep either.

That was probably a factor into him bumping into a pretty girl. Lightkratos knows he didn't have the skill or luck to do that when his faculties were at their fullest. He apologized as sincerely as he could muster without actually stopping, but she put a hand on his shoulder, and he wasn't the kind of guy who would pull away from that, so he did end up stopping after all, and turned around to meet her face. She was pretty. He wasn't falling over himself in love with her or anything, but you could just tell, this was a pretty girl. She had that look of not having let the world get to her yet. This was probably a good town for that. a town where deception is outlawed, and people treat each other right or else. Stark wondered briefly why she had stopped him, and realized he'd been too los tin thought to really hear her. He tried to pass it off as the crowd being too loud, and just asked her "What?" While raising his hand to his ear.

"I said, did you want your fortune read, mister?" She didn't seem altogether put off by his eye or anything, and that was enough for Stark to say yes, making quickly sure he had the money to do so after she turned around to lead him to her tent, which was unguarded but unlooted. It had kind of a cheap air about it, but Stark didn't mind, he was hoping the fortune was cheap to match. It looked like a pretty standard fortune teller's hut. There was a teapot for leaf reading, a jar marked bones, A dusty crystal ball that looked like it hadn't seen any use in the past while sat in a little holding case on a pillow. Stark wondered if maybe she didn't move her tent around at all. It seemed like she did the moving for it, and brought her clients back here.

She sat down, and waved her hand expectantly but patiently for Stark to take the other chair. He'd still been admiring the finer points of the tent, namely the tea kettle with a bag of leaves. He hadn't seen a tea reading since he was a kid, and he was about to ask for his fortune to be read that way as he sat down when she asked for his palm. He obliged wordlessly, and she started to look at it with a serious intent. After a while she looked back up with a soomewhat concerned look on her face that disppeared as she spoke. "So, what did you wana know, love line? Welth line? Fame line? Family line?"

Stark hadn't really considered it. "Can... Can I just have an overview, I guess?" Stark really wasn't a regular fortune fan,a dn this was the first time someone had used his hands as the method. He didn't really know what the etiquette was here.

"Well... Alright." She seemed kind of disappointed to hear that. Again, it faded in her voice really quickly as she started up again. "I can tell just looking at your hand that your love life up until now has been...yeah." She wasn't wrong. "And your money was doing alright, but not super til a few years back, recently you came into a bit though, so you know, good on ya. There'll be more, don't worry about that." That was nice enough. "As for fame. It just ain't happenin', but don't despair darlin', whose real well known that wasn't born with a spoon up their ass anyways, right?" Stark didn't really care about fame anyways. "And uh, as for your life line it's uhhh....Well, honestly, I can't really tell what's going on with it. It's kind of a mess. Maybe you got real scarred on your hand there or something?" She suggested. Stark figured that was just a better option to here then her being a sub par fortune teller, but as far as he knew, his hand hadn't been cut up severely at any point in his recent memory. He just shrugged though, He honestly wasn't going to put much stock into this anyways.

Stark got up, gave the girl a couple ducats and left, or tried to, he got that same hand on his shoulder. "I... I can't really tell what it is, it's kind of messed up, bu tit's something big." That was all she said, and all of a sudden that hand pulling him back was now pushing him out. And she was off into the crowd, probably already forgotten about him, looking for another guy to lure back to her tent. As for Stark, he tried not to give it too much thought either, as he wandered back into the blood stream of the living city.

Fuego

Oakheim was in ruins. Fuego hadn't heard that. It must have happened recently or... Or maybe no one had gotten out and seen yet. How was this not news? Unless... Unless this was company work. Maybe this was where the story started, so to speak. Where the cube left safe hands into unsafe ones. Where Eisig hatched up his little scheme. "We should take a look aro-" Fuego didn't get to finish his sentence. He started vomiting profusely where he stepped off the... ground on to the actual ground. This dirt surfing didn't suit him.

After he finished, he got back up, with whatever dignity he had left in him, addressed Klints. I'm going to take a quick look around here. You head to Corthrone AND BEHAVE. I don't want you getting into any fights or burying anyone alive. We have to learn what's going on and where Eisig is before we act, alright? I'll get to Corthrone my own way. One that induces less upheaval."

Edited September 1, 2010 by mr_e_s

[rn7]

"Tim, my god man, you know how much your sudden appearances get to me? My dear heart! Any way, apologizes for not contacting you. However it is not like you have made any effort to make yourself known. Is it necessary for us to shine a beacon up into the sky just to call upon your services? Please don't answer that, it was rhetorical." Free took a moment to gather his senses and calm himself down. Of all the things that could of happened to him, nothing completely rattled him off his rocker much like the Whistler. He could never quite get used to a guy without a face.

"Even if you were here, dear Tim, I would have mostly done it on my own, any how. Not simply extraction, you know, but some tidying up as well. Less company policy and more for my own personal benefit, I'm sure you understand. Though I don't doubt your... uncanny ability for discretion, there were quite many tracks to cover, and it was quite necessary to take precautions. Oddly, I do feel a smidgen of guilt for killing them all, however if one considers the fact that they were death row inmates, it seems I have done them a service." Free got out the confiscated product and shook it around, in front of Tim. It looked like nothing more than a clear liquid. "Such an extraordinary substance this is! Illegal for good reason. I must take the utmost care of it. Any way, is there a particular reason you are waiting outside here for me? Did Drin or Cog contact you, or do you have orders?"

The night was quite chilly and the sky was leaving its last dredges of light. Slowly, lights came on like a wave throughout the market.

"Ah, what are we doing out here, standing around like a pair of loafers? Come, let us get something to eat. My treat, naturally. We can talk on the way."

[Purg]

As he had expected, Stark had left them without answering the questions about Eltiar. He couldn't blame him - they hadn't traveled together long enough to tell each other even half the things of their pasts, and it seemed like an important part of his. If he was interested in learning about it, he would just have to continue to travel with him, which seemed to be a better idea than staying in Corthrone. The city was full of life and purpose, and Dom just couldn't say he had either of those qualities. A roaming man, a mediocre mercenary, no family or friends to speak of - he didn't seem to care, either. He was content with what he had done, what he had seen so far - anything more or less would be acceptable, but for now, he wouldn't be missing anything by continuing with this journey.

Jeph was scarfing down a loaf of bread as though it was a gourmet meal. He realized he had only spoken at, not with, him, and decided to fix that small problem.

"You were an Oakheim native, I believe - are you sure it's right for you to travel with us? Shouldn't you be trying to figure out what to do with the other refugees?"

~-~

That man... He had seen that man before. It had been... several years now, but that face was mostly familiar. It was possible that he was confusing him with someone else - he didn't remember the face from the past with an eye patch, for one - but it was worth a shot. He had forgotten his hunt for the cube with the reminiscing of the past, and as he drew nearer, he remembered where he had seen him before. With Eisig. That was a face he hadn't seen in awhile, either - but that was one that he probably wouldn't see anytime soon, knowing him. He smiled - any friend of Eisig would be a friend of his.

"Excuse me!" he called out to the larger man, pushing his way through the crowd with his gauntlet. "I wonder if I could have a moment of your time!"

[CATS]

Lyle had moved into his new spot by now. He assumed his companions had made it here with him, but it looked like some had wandered off in the meantime. In particular, he didn't see that Stark fellow anywhere. Oh well, no surprise, it was easy to get lost in the moving market. He would probably turn up later. Lyle had set up in front of the two tall buildings which formed the alleyway from earlier, except that they were now gone--somehow they had just up and disappeared while Lyle was moving his stuff over here. Then again, this was the moving market, so Lyle figured he shouldn't be too surprised. They were probably being erected in an impossibly short length of time across the city even as he thought about it. A whole city which shifted and moved constantly, for Lightkratos only knew how long now. It figured that they would have learned how to set shit up, tear it down, and move it around in ways that no one else could.

Oh, that's right, the guys had been talking about something a short while ago. Lyle wasn't sure how long it had been, he'd been busy with a customer at the time, but now found an opportunity to weigh in.

"I don't know about this Eltiar fellow, but if you guys want to get rid of a cube or whatever, just hand it over! I'm sure I could get a good price for it. It must be something very valuable if a great magical duel was fought over it, right? Is it some ancient artifact that doesn't do anything but which a museum would really want, maybe?"

Lyle was talking to no one in particular, just the group at large, and himself to some extent. This was great news, Mattias had ruined his plan to sell shit and get rich, but Mattias didn't know about this cube! Lyle could sell the cube, probably to some dusty old museum leader, for a huge pile of ducats and make away with the take all himself. Well, these guys who actually owned the cube might want some of it too, but Lyle would deal with that when he got there. If it came down to it he would just give them whatever they wanted, after all, these guys clearly weren't people you wanted to cross. There had apparently been a superbadass magic duel and they'd emerged both intact and still holding the precious cube. Hopefully Lyle could find a way to give them the slip, though.

Some girl had come over now, she seemed interested in Lyle's wares at first, but soon enough it was clear that she was more interested in him. That was both weird and troubling; weird because Lyle's entire body was concealed, and troubling because Lyle couldn't really do that stuff with humans. However, when Lyle started to stutter some excuse, the girl explained that she only wanted to read his fortune. Hell, why not? Lyle's favorite thing to do was get money, and his second favorite thing to do was spend that money after he got it. Might as well start now! Money's there to be spent, after all! This monetary philosophy was the main reason why Lyle was always trying to get more of it. Lyle began to follow the girl back to her tent.

---

"This place is super cool!"

Klints had arrived in the moving market at record speeds, he'd been chilling for a good while since, he wasn't sure how long. Some indeterminate and entirely insignificant length of time. It was easy to lose track of time in this place, easy to lose track of your money as you went from one merchant to the next, easy to lose track of your position as the street re-aligned itself while you were browsing a merchant's wares, easy to just get lost as fuck in general, really. It was a blast. Klints spent all his money right away, these guys weren't crazy like the merchants in Alabaste who wanted one hundred percents, they asked for ducats and Klints was happy to provide. He was soon dirt-surfing around the city, waving his sword around, in a brand-new and ridiculous outfit; a gold-sequined suit with a wide, floppy purple hat and a tall turkey feather stuck into the brim. He felt like a total badass superhero.

There were a lot of guys following him with swords, Klints assumed it was his fanclub. Now that he had these cool clothes, he wasn't at all surprised that everyone wanted a piece of him. The waving of the swords was probably because they wanted Klints to sign them. They kept yelling stuff about how many carts Klints had knocked over, how much stuff he had messed up. This praise was music to his ears. Klints agreed whole-heartedly with the eager fanboys, his dirt-surfing was especially badass today. He'd gotten mad air off that one guy's cart earlier, and then when he did the quintuple 1020 double-cross kickflip slam from the roof of one tent to another? Pure gold, right there. World-class material. The tents had been destroyed by the surge of dirt as Klints went across them, of course, but Klints was sure the merchants didn't mind sacrificing their stuff for a chance to watch Klints in action. Sure enough, the two guys who had owned those tents had joined Klints's fanclub, and were following him around yelling just like all the others.

Come to think of it, it was kind of unfortunate that the fanclub couldn't keep up with him. Of course not, they were just regular people on foot. What chance did they have trying to keep up with a superhero like Klints? They were getting pretty tired and far behind, so Klints decided to let them catch up. He turned around and raised his arms, ready to welcome his raving fans and start handing out autographs and handshakes. As it turns out, the guys were pretty mad at him after all. They started yelling things like "off with his head!" and "kill this lunatic!" and "I want my stuff back damn it!" Klints was just confused, didn't they appreciate his grandiose sense of style? How could they not love him? Soon enough it looked like the worst was going to happen, though. These people, Klints's adoring fans just a few seconds ago, were going to attack him! Klints didn't want to squash them like insects, but it was looking like he had no choice!

Suddenly, a tall man in gleaming armor intervened, stepping between Klints and the angry mob.

"Now, now, fair citizens! Let this not come to blows. This man is a powerful geomancer; should you attempt to engage him, many of you will surely perish, even if you eventually succeed in overwhelming him. Likewise, killing him will not bring back your ruined wares. There is nothing to be gained by fighting here. Let the geomancer atone for his sins in a more beneficial manner! His powers could benefit the moving market to an immense degree; should he not, then, use his abilities to help the merchants move their goods around, and to help them establish new places of business in record amounts of time? I ask you, citizens, should this not be the way of things?" the man boomed.

The people roared and cheered in favor. Klints said that he'd be happy to help. Sure he would! He was a superhero, helping people was what he did. He would miss dirt-surfing, but he had already forgotten about that, it was just as much fun to manipulate the earth under a merchant's stand and carry it from one place to the next. With his abilities focused in such a manner, Klints could help the merchants move even faster than they did normally! It was great fun, too. Sometimes he got a little over-excited and made one stand bump into another, or something else like that, but the merchants didn't seem to mind anymore. The huge amount of time he was saving them made up for a few mistakes.

Meanwhile, that armored guy had a whole crowd of people gathered around him adoring him and such. He had a pretty big fanclub, people were going on about how smart and wise and righteous he was. Klints couldn't disagree, the guy was huge, he had really cool-looking shiny armor, and a huge shiny sword. Totally badass. He was kissing babies (or pressing them up to his helmet's mouthpiece, at least) and patting people on the head and stuff. They loved him! A fellow superhero, Klints supposed. He looked at one of the people who walked away from the superhero with an autographed sword; the name on the blade read Mattias Vampwolfski. Weird, for such a cool-looking superhero, he had a really dumb name. Oh well. Klints went back to moving stuff around. Then he noticed a fortune-teller.

---

The fortune-teller sat Klints and Lyle down at her table. She hadn't planned on reading Klints's fortune, but the man had thrown a veritable pile of ducats at her and insisted, so she wasn't going to turn him down. The two made small talk while she was preparing her tea and such.

"Heh, nice get-up. Guess you're goin' to a costume party tonight or summat? Who are you supposed to be?" Lyle said.

"Oh, I'm just your friendly neighborhood superhero. I just got into the crime-fighting business, about an hour ago, really. It's been great so far though. I've been trying to think of a name. What do you think my name should be?" Klints answered.

"Stayin' in character, I see. A true actor, eh? Anyways, superhero? Uh, you're making your own superhero up? I dunno man. Something corny and bland is how it usually goes. Like, you have a gold suit and a sword, so the Golden Swordsman would probably do you just fine."

"The Golden Swordsman, huh? I like it! But I'm a geomancer too, so that should be in the name too, don't you think? How about.....Golden Earth-Sword Man! Master of both mother nature's fury and the cold force of mankind's most iconic creation! That's really cool, huh?"

"Sure, whatever. Sounds good to me. Say buddy, I got robbed earlier, and I was thinking, since you're a superhero and all. Mind lendin' me a buck or two? You know, kinda down on my luck recently, I just need a few extra to help me get back on my feet."

"Oh, for sure! I mean, uh, I would be glad to, faithful citizen! May you live a long and healthy life!"

Klints threw a pile of ducats at Lyle, who went bug-eyed and eagerly scooped the money up.

"Heh, I was just jokin' man, didn't know you were that dedicated of an actor! Wow, a true thespian if I ever saw one. Thanks, pal!"

"Thespian? I dunno what that means, but it sounds good. I appreciate your sincere praise, citizen! Oh look, the lady's gonna read our fortunes now."

"You sure are an odd pair of customers. Now, what will it be?" the fortune-teller said.

"Uh, read our fortunes?" Lyle and Klints said together.

The fortune-teller shrugged, then grabbed each man's hand. Lyle recoiled, but it was too late, his not-quite-human hand had already been exposed. The fortune-teller gasped.

"Whoa! Are you a monster?!" Klints asked.

"No, no, don't hurt me!" Lyle shouted, throwing his cloak off to reveal his half-rat, half-human form. He really wasn't even ugly or anything, just.....he was sort of a rat, and sort of a man. It always threw people off.

"Look, I, I'm just a hybrid! Just like you two, but I sort of look like a rat too! I don't mean no harm or nothin'! Don't judge me!"

"Hey, cool! So how did you get like that?" Klints asked.

"Well, uh, I'm sort of the black sheep of the family, as you mighta guessed. My dad, he was a famous scientist and a powerful mage. He used to use lab rats in his experiments, and uh, one day he sort of made a mistake......you really don't want to know the rest."

Klints shrugged.

"Cool. Ok, fortune time?"

The fortune-teller nodded, then took each man's hand in one of her own.

"I'll start with your love lines......Lyle, I'm sorry but there's no easy way to put this. Yours is, well, to be honest it isn't there. I'm sorry. Klints......yours is quite healthy. It zig-zags back and forth, forming intricate patterns, but never holding the same shape for long. You will never have a long, steady relationship, but brief romances will abound. Hopefully you aren't the type who wants to commit and start a family, as I'm afraid it's not in your future. Next your fortune lines. Lyle, yours is......wow, very long. You will become a tremendously wealthy man!" she said.

Lyle pretty much jumped for joy.

"Klints, I'm sorry, but yours actually ends today. You have almost no money left after giving that pile to Lyle here, correct? You will not earn much more. You will remain poor for the rest of your life. I am sorry. Perhaps the one-night stands will make up for it. Now, your life lines......hm, oh, this can't be right, let me try again.......no. No, it can't be. One more time, and......"

Here the fortune-teller simply trailed off.

"So?" they asked.

"Your life lines are almost at their end. Both of them."

"What? Horseshit! I want my money back!" Lyle shouted.

"No way! I'm a superhero, we don't die!" Klints joined in.

"Sorry no refunds bye," the fortune-teller said, quickly ushering them out the door.

Klints forgot about it and sped away almost immediately. Lyle just shook his head, muttered something about bogus bullshit crackpot quacks stealing his money, and trudged back to his cart to sell more shit. Looked like not much had happened while he was away, so he just went back to hawking his wares. But try as he might, he couldn't get the fortune-teller's words out of his head.

[Script]

Derwood

Derwood had been waiting for what felt like hours--which were probably minutes really-waiting for another screw-up among the marketeers to happen but it never came. The utter nerve of these people! How did they expect to survive without a seedy underbelly that Derwood wasn't part of! Why, he had half a mind to march up to the big and sturdy building and yell at them to get an underbelly for guys not like him. But that super-common voice in his head told him he would probably end up very hurt and very dead from something as stupid as that so Derwood just sat, traded, and watched some more. Even after a change in location nothing seemed to have changed other than getting rid of that bowl for some blue ball that Derwood than traded for a grasshopper. It wasn't the greatest trade, but what was he gonna do with a bowl? or a ball? or a grasshopper? Dammit, he kept getting screwed by the system, that's why the system was so bad and encouraged people that weren't like Derwood and tried to earn their way through the bad things in life. Not like honorable Derwood at all!

Derwood waited until he traded away that grasshopper for--what the man called-a heypenny. Derwood had no idea what it was other than a fancy lookin' coin, but it was bound to be better than a grasshopper. But alas for poor Derwood, that grasshopper he traded was one of the rarest of its kind, and the man who bought it ran straight over to the insect inspector who paid the man a fortune so great it took three carts to haul it away. While all that happened, Derwood packed up his super-trustworthy goods and started heading back to... nowhere. Where the hell was he supposed to go? Back to the scary dudes? Well, they had sort of trusted him... But there was bound to be somewhere better. Probably.

Yeah, after a few minutes of searching there wasn't. So Derwood went back to looking for that scary team, maybe try and find that Lyle dude from before. Honest men had to stick together after all! "Damnation! Why can't anything ever be where I want it to be!" Derwood spooted the Caravan that held the one-eyed scary guy. "Oh hey. This doesn't make us even ummm, whatever I'm yelling at!"

Derwood skipped over to the caravan guys for some reason. "Hey guys! How was your time spent!" Derwood said not giving a damn if they answered. "I got... stuff! Perfectly legitimate work, yes! Nothing, not a thing not belonging to me and me alone haha!"

[mr_e_s]

Stark

After the matter of the fortune, Stark had begun thinking about what he was really going to do with himself, as one was apt to do after having their fortunes read, albeit from a fortune teller without the skill to actually tell him his fortune.His plans had been to find work here, maybe he could get on with that. Honestly though it was less appealing now that he was actually here then when he was in the shit hole that was Alabaste. Stark had been around, at least around Arcya, he knew there wasn't really a better off place in his home country, bar maybe the capital, Carthica. It was where Eltiar hung his hat when he was home, too... Where had the old man gone off to this time? Perhaps he went back home, to Yuki. He never could stand to be away too long, after all. Even his rare visits to Oakheim were shorter then Stark would have liked. Always busy.

Stark heard a voice amongst the voices, he didn't pay it much mind, but it got louder as it continued, and it became apparent it was directed at him "....a moment of your time?" Stark turned around to see a shorter man with berserker style armour, covering his left arm as well as his shoulder and core. He very much did not look the part of a berserker though. Stark didn't know many berserker with a belt full of tools, for instance. Perhaps his armour was just a way of modeling his craft, perhaps he was some variety of smith. And if he was a smith, he would likely be trying to sell Stark something right now. It wasn't an unlikely thing to happen, he supposed. Being a swordsman wandering through a town full of merchants, and kind of a bigger guy, not to mention the eyepatch, Stark probably stood out enough for someone to take note of, and he did pick up a fresh change of clothes earlier, as he was starting to stink, and the clothes were half the problem. He might look more moneyed then he actually was right now.

Still, he wasn't particularly moneyed, and whatever amazing offer this guy had, Stark didn't have the coin to obtain it. best to just leave it be. "No thank you, I'm not buying." Stark turned and kept going, feeling the matter was ended there.

Fuego

Nothing. Not a damned thing.

Fuego halfheartedly kicked the still smoldering remains of a support beam to vent his frustrations. So much happened here, and the fire, the fire took it all away, the evidence was all gone. Fuego couldn't really tell what took place here, except for the fact that a lot of people died, a fire was the main cause, and there were monsters around. But what had happened? Why were there monsters in the walls? This fire couldn't have been started by a goblin, there were too many points of origin for it. This was something not many people were capable of, Fuego knew that as a fact being one of them.

But there was nothing he could do. He'd been here two hours with no real new clues to go off of. Wasting any more time here would probably allow this Stark to leave Corthrone, and then the hunt would get harder. Besides, he didn't like the thought of leaving Klints alone too long. He almost grabbed for his matches, but realized how needless that was. He felt around for the last dying embers of this city, might as well steal them away before they sparked back up anyways. As he looked around, pieces of furniture, of walls, of ceilings and floors, they began to move slightly towards him, until eventually little pieces of them broke off, each one containing a glowing orange center. With the fuel still attached, and the pieces all floating in air, it was really easy. All of a sudden the little airborne debris became tiny balls of fire. Just as suddenly, the tiny balls of fire merged together, becoming one admittedly still somewhat small ball of fire. And that small ball was beckoned to Fuego's hands.there it was nestled until it became of a reasonable size, and it was split into two tender pieces of living energy.

Fuego took those two pieces, and held them with straight arms towards the ground. and as though it had been their sole purpouse, as he released them, they propelled him upward, and then forward, keeping up with him while simultaneously boosting him, all without the slightest touch. So much better then dirt surfing Fuego thought with a rare smile.

Whistler

Beaker, he was always good to me.Well, not always, but most of the time. Maybe he felt guilty for me. He's the reason I am like I am, after all. He was probably a braver man back then, at least, by my supposition. I think I might be a regret of his or something. He still calls me Tim. Not Whistler. Never unless he has to. Like if one of our superiors is around, or we're on official business together. I don't understand it myself, to tell the truth. I haven't been Tim for a long time now. I mean, Tim is a person's name, isn't it? I don't think I'm strictly speaking a person any more, not by my standards, anyways. I left people behind. I'm just Whistler now, if there was another of me, we'd be the Whistlers, like a new species or something.

You remember Matthew? The kid with the ball. Yeah, him. He used to tell me I wasn't a he, I was an it. It actually hurt my feelings when I was young, but then, I suppose kids can be cruel. I honestly never gave it a lot of thought later on in life, but lately it's really been coming back to me, like at the start of a show with a twist. It's like, it meant something else when he said it, but now it really applies. I'm not a he any more, am I? I'm something else altogether. I guess Matthew had the right of it, maybe he was just ahead of the curve. Probably a lot of people out there that would call me an it now.

Sorry, I got distracted. Anyways Beaker, he gives me some bullshit reasons why I couldn't do the job, something about a signal in the sky or something, I can't really remember, and then he offers to buy me dinner. I figure there's no reason to hold a grudge, right, 'specially when he's buying, so I do a little flip off this little gate thing the government building has, and I say "Just so long as their mixing's better'n yours!" Cause you know, he's chemist. We had a good laugh about it, the both of us.

[Purg]

The voice cinched it - that was the man from years ago, the man he had seen with Eisig. Much had changed in the time that had passed - both in himself, and in the man in front of him. He hadn't heard anything from Eisig in quite some time - he wondered if it was the same with his friend. To answer that question, though, he'd have to explain himself, before he lost any chance of finding out.

"Oh, I'm no merchant," he said, still following after the larger man. "An inventor, really, I work on just about anything, weapons, tools, prosthetics, if they've been made I've probably worked on them a bit! I'm rather good at it, if I do say so myself." His mind was racing at the possibilities of what he could discuss - he had so many projects, after all - but remembered that he was after a link to the leader of the Shizen cell, not a stranger to bore with his hobbies. "But that's all beside the point," he said, calming himself down as he finally caught up with him. "The important thing is, I believe I'm a bit of a friend of a friend to you. I don't think we've ever met personally, but you look like a man I saw several years ago with an acquaintance of mine, a man named Eisig - no, that's not his true name, forgive me, my memory is a bit clouded, it seems. You'd probably know him as Eltiar." He smiled, trying to judge to see if the world reflected what his mind remembered. "I was wondering, perhaps, if you've seen him lately. It's been at least a year since I saw him last, even longer since we've spoken more than courtesies to each other, and I'll admit I've rather missed his insights."

"Of course, if I'm mistaken and you're not the man I think you are, a thousand apologies. You just look so much alike to a man I'd seen him with before - although it was long ago, and it's possible my old eyes are fooling me." He didn't want to admit it, but it was a possibility - it had been so long, and he had only had a few minutes' opportunity to see the man's face - but, if he had to place a probability, he was at least 80% sure that this man was the same from so long ago.

[rn7]

"Nonsense Tim, there is no better mixer than me! Though beverages aren't exactly my forte!" Free said while walking around quite hurriedly. He wasn't that he was in a rush, but more than the place he was looking for was a bit tough to find, being that it could up and move all the time. Sure, it was moving at a pace of a turtle, but considering the place was akin to an entire colony of turtles, Free wanted to scout the place out before he had to sift through the masses.

The two finally arrived at what seemed like a weapons shop. Well, probably two, as Whistler kinda did this own thing, being what he was. Free spoke out any way, hoping he wasn't acting like an idiot and talking to no one.

"Tell me, Tim. What is your poison? Are you a practitioner of swords? Do you enjoy the crisp snap of a perfectly elastic bow? Or do see something, and in the next moment, wonder what would happen if it swallowed a bomb and exploded into chunky little bits all over the place? Such a wonderful place this is, quite popular too."

A large bearded man, covered with a plethora of scars Free could only place as a result of bear wrestling or some other brutish activity, stepped up to Free. He greeted the scientist in just about the deepest voice Free had ever heard.

"Ullo. Can uh 'elp yuh." The man sounded completely monotone and bored, as if he's seen too much killing for one day, or as if it was his daily job.

"Of course, dear sir! Two rentals, if you may. Now, Tim, there is nothing quite like hunting a wild, ravenous devil boar, then eating it straight after!" Free picked up the crossbow he had been examining the entire time, plucking its strings like a violin, and holding it up to his ear like a seashell. "To think we are doing this as a service to the merchants! Remember Tim, even if they cannot see you, they can still smell you! Careful out there!"

Free made his way to the outlying roads, where dangerous yet delectable creatures roamed the streets. A few of the merchants from the rental place had joined them, one part to protect them from the animals, the other to protect the animals from being overpoached. In reality, Free wasn't much of a hunter. But he did know how to operate a crossbow, and the hunting served as a great opportunity to test his variety of deadly concoctions. Plus it came with drinks and a baked potato.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

This man introduced himself better, stating that he wasn't in fact a merchant. Stark curiosity was mildly piqued there, as at any given moment, at least a third of the people in this city were. Were it not for the steady convoys in and out, there would be no way it could sustain itself. But for a city with almost no buildings, Corthrone was actually one of the largest economic powers of the country, as sad as that was. Stark had heard they had elected officials sitting in Carthica arguing for causes that would help the merchants of the tent city now... None of that was important right now, though. Stark was grabbed from his brief distraction by a name, a name he'd heard long ago, but had forgotten. Eisig. Did he know an Eisig? If so, from where?

As the... inventor went on, and clarified that he'd meant Eltiar, that Stark would know Eisig as Eltiar. Was Eltiar not his real name? Stark had never really questioned it before, but there was some nagging memory at him. Eltiar excusing himself and talking to a man. A loud man, who used the name Eisig. Stark hit something like a wall in that memory. What did he really know about his old friend? All these years, he'd been so unquestioning. But then, he really had no reason to suspect it was something malign. Sometimes he just jumped to the wrost conclusions... He quickly dispelled the notion of Eltiar excusing himself and slapping on a fake evil moustache to leave a girl tied in front of a cart, unless she told him where Her knight in shining armour had run off to.

"I..." Stark was at a loss for words. Something that was getting too common lately. "He... saved me not too long ago, and the last time I saw him, I got this." Stark pulled the sleeve on his shirt up, revealing the very obviously damaged shoulder. Stark hadn' thought about it recently. The doctors must have done a great job. He wasn't sure why he was being so open with this man, maybe he was just knocked off guard with the sudden mention of Eltiar... Or was it Eisig? Either way, Stark was hooked, he wanted to know more. "I'm Stark." He held out a hand, not his main sword hand, the injured one. "If you want, I'll buy you a drink."

Whistler

Beaker ain't never straightforward. He always says something, and it's sort of true, but it sort of ain't. Maybe he's real good at it, or maybe I'm just dumb, but I always fall for it. He says we gonna go to a great restaurant, and now we've gotta go kill our own food. I wasn't too happy with him. I didn't make a face or anything, cause really, what's the point? Ain't had no use for dirty faces since back when I had a face to dirty up.

I was wearing some clothes then, i think I said so already, but just so you know, everyone could see me, I even had one of those one way masks, you know, like people wear for costumes. Some people where 'em, what are disfigured or half rat or somethin'. You know, people what don't want to be seen. I even got gloves covering me, and all that. Let me tell you, there's a large frame of time in the year when that get up is downright uncomfortable. The difference between me and those other folks wht wear that kind of get up is, they wear it so people can't see 'em, and I wear it so people can. Sometimes I envy those idiots, but it probably goes both ways.

So anyways there we are, out in this forest, and Free as giddy as a school kid with one of them textbooks with naughty parts in it, and me just doing my best not to shoot myself in the leg. I can't stress enough how I'm not much of a fighter. I mean, in a straight up situation, where someone can see me, and we both have similar weapons, I'll probably lose. I can't even remember shooting a crossbow ever before that. Maybe during this evaluation thing I had with the Order, but that seems like so long ago. Can hardly remember. You can imagine my surprise when I shoot this monster of a boar with my first shot then, right? Cause, he was like, waiting to pounce, on the other side of this bush, and he was a beast. Guys who ran the whole shoot your own dinner thing said they'd been hunting him for three months now, couldn't catch him. Said we could have our meal on the house, Even put my name on this list of master hunters they had for people that made really good catches. I know Beaker was real jealous of me, even though he didn't show it. He's a sly one. As we sat down to eat that mammoth of a boar, I knew what was coming next, too. Beaker, he's a sly one, he ain't never straightforward.

[Purg]

... That was quite a wound. It had been healed already, that much was clear, but had it been much worse, Drin figured that the man - Stark, he said - would need some help from Andy. Since the healing, it was difficult to tell what had caused it, but his gut and memory could agree on something - it was a terrible burn, of some nature. He recalled Eisig's comrade, the only one he knew of, at least - a man, a master of lightning. It was possible, then, that the Shizen cell had been responsible for Stark's injuries. Furthermore, he could assume he still counted Eisig as a friend, at least at the moment - if he hadn't, he would've been immediately suspicious of him, and he couldn't see any sign of anxiety in his demeanor, only surprise. He could probably trust him, then. A drink wouldn't hurt, either.

"I'd be happy to accompany you, although I insist on paying. We could share stories about our mutual friend, I'm sure we both have questions for each other about that." He shook the outstretched hand with his unarmored hand, careful not to be too erratic in his enthusiasm, he wouldn't want to hurt his shoulder more than it already had been. "And questions about each other, I believe."

The bar, like all other buildings in Corthrone, was a large tent, packed ass to elbow with people of all walks of life. Off-duty guards, caravansary, merchants, bums - anyone and everyone could find their way here, no matter how often it moved. And it did move often - Drin wouldn't have been surprised if the posts were being pulled up by the time he ordered his gin. However, it seemed they hadn't yet found a spot to take the business to, so he felt confident in using one of the rarely-used stools, motioning for Stark to sit next to him.

"We may not be able to sit and talk here for long, but it's certainly better than standing out in the street," he said with a grin.

[mr_e_s]

Stark

For a tent restaurant, it was nice enough. Stark was always amazed what people managed to pull of in Corthrone, how much style and class they could maintain while operating businesses out of a moving tent. Truth be told, he'd have preferred to have tried this restaurant he'd heard of on the outskirts of town where they let you hunt your own dinner. It sounded like fun, and Stark hadn't had any real fun in a while. Unfortunately, berserker armour aside, this guy didn't seem like much of a hunter, besides, despite how pleasant this encounter seemed, Stark knew it wasn't just a social visit. This man said he hadn't seen Eltiar in a while, over a year, he wanted some info on him too. Stark knew he'd be trading info here.

A pretty girl came up and showed them to her table, Stark didn't give her much notice, except to note that she looked kind of overworked. looking around at the 5 table establishment, Stark was amazed they didn't have a wait, considering every table was full, and...wasn't there a line outside? He hadn't paid it much mind, but maybe this guy was important around here. He'd have to keep an eye out for any tells about that from here on out, be it respectful looks, just stealing glances at him, or a hint of fear when people address him. Sometimes how people react to someone can be a better sign of their nature then the way they react back. Everyone puts on faces, after all. Not that it mattered lots right now, Stark really just wanted that info.

Stark was going to ask if there was someone he was avoiding, but he had other answers he wanted, and he didn't want to try the man's patience before he even got to really ask any of the pressing matters about Eltiar. Still, places to start off tended to be the same. "What's your name?" That seemed like as good a place as any to start. It might be a little straightforward for just sitting down, but on the other hand, he did just sit down for a meal with a guy he didn't even know the name of. Thinking about ti a second, he added. "And if you have another name, like Eltiar, what is it?"

Fuego

He landed relatively smoothly. He was still working on it, if he had to rank it, it would be an 8 out of 10. The grass in a 5 meter radius from him was pretty dead, torched all to hell. It was a better option then breaking his ankles trying to avoid damaging mother earth though. Fuego had only been to Corthrone once before, at least, in more then just a passing through capacity. He didn't care for the town. t didn't have any sense of order. It would be hard to find anyone here. It wasn't the kind of place a guy with burnt up shoulder really stood out. It took a really successful merchant or a really big idiot to stand out in this kind of place. Fuego had the feeling he'd have no problem finding Klints in this mess, at least.

...Except he did. He was amazed, maybe Klints was actually learning to keep a low profile. That would be something else alright, considering last he checked, the odds were 3 to 1 he'd be getting a visit from internal affairs to straighten him out. It was actually pretty refreshing not to have to clean up after him for once. Somehow Fuego got stuck with that even though it was Mr. Lightning that was training him... Man this place was confusing.

He was pretty sure the road just closed off behind him. He'd passed this same poster of a smiley on an apple, announcing the upcoming postmodern artistry meeting. It was like the city was conspiring not to let him leave unless he traded his life savings for an armload of crap and safe passage outside of this city. He was tempted to just use one of the restaurants oven's to gather a bit of fire and throw up a flare, but he thought better of it. he started asking around, everyone from a one armed man to a man who seemed to have that problem solved with some kind of advanced prosthetics. No one saw anyone matching his description,. Maybe he would have had more luck if he described the geomancy Klints used, but Fuego assured himself that would be dumb, as Klints was laying low, that's why he was so hard to-were those tracks from dirt surfing?

Fuego was going to kill him, really, he was.

[Purg]

Drin sipped from his glass carefully. Trading information was always a careful business - he couldn't afford to get into trouble by accidentally letting something slip, so he had to consider his answers as best as he could. He couldn't spend too long thinking, though - Stark was expecting answers, and within a timely manner. "Drin Arathin," he said calmly, putting the glass down. "And the same people who call Eltiar - because that is his real name, you see - anyways, the same people who call him Eisig call me Tinker." He smiled. "You're quick to catch on, I have to say, but I didn't see any reason to keep it a secret if my denial would be suspicious. I'll answer whatever questions you have, within reason, if you can do the same for me."

"Your arm... Could you explain to me how that happened?" He thought of pulling out a notepad, to try to record his answer down as best he could - but that would likely only distract his conversational partner, and he wanted him to answer as naturally as possible. "I mean, you said you saw Eltiar there, after all - I'd like to know what occurred, if you don't mind."

If he mentioned another mage, a man who could throw lightning... That would certainly confirm his suspicions. But how would Eisig fit into everything then? If this man's injury - a friend of Eisig - involved the Shizen cell, would it mean he was the enemy? He wasn't quite sure what he could believe, not until he got his answers. He was getting ahead of himself - it happened fairly frequently. He would just have to be patient, as tiresome as it would be.

[lunarAegis]

Jeph.

Jeph shrugged. He could pretty honestly care no less about Oakheim than he did right now. He didn't have any more reason to ever see anyone from Oakheim ever again, and that can pretty much be summed up in a shrug. Jeph then somehow managed to ask the question "What about you, how long are you sticking around?" without speaking at all.

He's... he's really not sure how he got so good at that.

[rn7]

"The closest I can get to live subjects," Free said, while delicately cutting a steak of the fresh-off-the-grill giant boar. "That is, without causing too much of a hoot. Some others have problems with that, like that mongrel herder."

Free looked over to Whistler, who looked awfully nervous or upset about something or another.

"Don't worry, Tim, it was quite dead after I examined it. Two shots to the base of the spinal cord after I had frozen over its legs. Wonderful how the electricity in the solution I administered imparted a somewhat... smoky taste to the insides, though I could do without the corpse fidgeting around for the several moments after. Wouldn't you agree? Oh, worry not, dear Tim, I won't tell the others about the quite unfortunate misfire. Put pressure on the wound though, that blood on your socks is unsightly. I remember my first time with a crossbow as well, I was a mere youngling, then..."

Free reminisced about his younger days as drinks were brought to the table. The other hunters joined him, and exchanged some slightly exaggerated stories with one another. One of the men joked that Free should show him how he did all that stuff, to which Free responded with only laughter. A guffawing loud laughter that felt slightly too long for the situation.

Free took a long drink, and now looked over to Tim.

"Now, Tim, what business do you have with me? It isn't simply orders, is it?

[Android]

Andy

Shortly after arriving, the group had already dissolved and gone their seperate ways. It wasn't surprising; everyone in the group had a habit of isolating themselves to their work. The only problem with that was the last thing he wanted to do was spend another couple hours in his tent. Andy wasn't sure what Free had gone off to do (he was never quite sure what was going on with him. A nice enough guy, but confusing as hell to understand sometimes), but Drin said he was going off to find the group's target, which sounded plenty good to him. All he had to do was find Drin. He had thought he had seen Drin go that way, hadn't he? Or maybe it had been.... Shit. For all he was able to do with mechanics, he was had a horrible internal compass. Seemed like it was time to go to the usual plan, which was to wander around and hope to get lucky.

Andy wandered around looking for nothing in particular, just looking for a clue to where he was. It was even busier in the marketplace than it was earlier. While the usual deals were going on in the booths and tents, it seemed that some commotion was being raised towards the middle of it all. Intrigued, Andy started to head towards when he was knocked on his back by a strong force. A golden blur passed by on what appeared to be... dirt? It took some geomancing on a great level to pull something like that off, he was sorry he wasn't able to get a better look at the man. Something about it seemed to ring a bell, but he pushed it out of his mind, stood up and got back to wandering around.

A few minutes later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Well, more on his back area, the young man wasn't quite tall enough to reach the shoulder. The guy was had light brown hair and was young looking, didn't even look to be out of his teens. "Hey, I'm sort of new to the town, I was wondering if you've seen my friend. He's about this high, blonde hair, about my age, too."

Andy shook his head and kept moving. He probably should have warned about the rampaging mage in the area, but the kid looked smart enough to figure it out on his own. Besides, it was best to not spend to much time talking to the him and just focus on fin- being lost in thought, he accidentally bumped into a girl. A pretty one, too. Andy muttered "sorry" under his breath and offered to help her up.

She brushed off her dress and shot him a cross look, "Well now, is that any way to treat a lady?"

Andy blushed slightly "I'm really sorry about that. I was distracted."

The frown on the girl's face faltered, and she beamed him a smile. "Here, you can pay it back to me by letting me read your fortune."

With a shrug, he followed her to her tent. The tent itself seemed pretty standard, with all the usual stuff one would associate with fortune telling. She pulled him into the middle and sat him down in front of a small table, and after a apparently small sum of 15 ducats, she sat down on the other side. She took his hand and began to inspect it carefully, staring intently at the palm.

"Oh my, this can't be any good." she muttered.

Andy's head perked up. He had never been one to believe in fortune telling or anything like that before, but it was always possible, wasn't it?

The fortune teller stood up and started to hang her head. "Well, I'm afraid I have bad news, just some simply terrible news."

Andy jumped to his feet. "Terrible news? What do you mean?"

She came behind him and started gently guiding him to the door. "Unfortunately, both of your hands are fake," she said, rapping one of her knuckles on the metal.

"Because of this, I can't use the line on your palm to find your fortune! No refunds, I'm afraid. But if it makes you feel better, I get a feeling you'll run into some good luck soon!" And with that, she pushed him outside back into the marketplace.

With a sigh, he looked around and noticed a restaurant set up nearby. Screw it, might as well eat while he was still able to find a place to do it. Forcing his way into the building past the large line, he noticed Drin sitting down inside at one of the tables. What luck! Andy pulled a chair up to the table and sat down, grinning. "Good to see you again, friend. You won't believe the time I've had." It was then he saw the other man sitting down at the table, someone he had never seen before. He glanced back and forth between the two.

"Sorry, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Edited September 4, 2010 by Android