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Blood is a thick, vile thing. It's sickly warmness is a grim reminder of the ending of life and the fleeting nature of a failing spirit. The crimson liquid pools in great quantities, forming a lake of putrid death beneath the corpse of the fallen. Humanity is so very fragile, is it not? Despite man's endless struggle to advance, improve and go beyond what they are currently capable of, human life can still be snuffed out with a swift blow to the heart. A mere sharp knife can destroy decades of potential growth in the blink of an eye. What a thought it is that the same species that stepped foot on another celestial body withers away like a flower strangled by a bed of thorns. Warriors seek to cultivate their life taking skills, and make use of human frailty for profit and glory. They train their bodies to the maximum in order to eviscerate other lesser creatures. A man that has the strength and knowledge to end anyone they come across is burdened with a single, searing question: 'What right have I to kill? Who am I determine what life deserves to be torn asunder by these calloused, powerful palms?'

These are the thoughts of a man at arms.

But not the thoughts of Graves Bludd, genocidal maniac, ruthless bounty hunter and murderer extraordinaire in the virtual world of Pariah. The giant form of the Blood Knight stepped forth from the shining arcane light of the gate platform. The hulking warrior lumbered down the steps of the teleportation pad and entered the crowded streets of the settlement of Thorinn. Crowds of people, both NPC and Wayfarer alike, shuffled along the cobblestone roads that ran all throughout the city. The population of the outlying colony was surprisingly dense; and the news of a recent dungeon cropping up had drawn numerous players to the out of the way urban center in search of gold and glory. Bludd himself had caught wind of the presence of the crypt through a vulgar, bitchy healer he'd run a couple of instances with a few times before. The woman was an annoying asshat but she made better company than most. She tended to have fairly reliable medicinal skills, too, so Graves couldn't complain about the grating dancer too much.

The hulking form of the gargantuan tank shoved past a gaggle of gossips. He had little regard for the people of Aetheria, to be truthful. They were a bunch of scripts and programs that offered him money in exchange for his services and little else. He treated players marginally better, stepping out of the way of obvious clumps of them; not because he thought they mattered or any bullshit like that, but because he knew a group of 'em could kick his ass three ways from Sunday. Don't get Graves wrong, though. He wasn't afraid to pick a fight with someone over something as arbitrary and stupid as them being in his way when he was trying to walk. In fact, he had gotten into plenty of scuffles over less. However, the unarmored tank knew that even he, being the badass that he was, couldn't handle an organized party of three or four other players. Dying all the way out in Thorrin to some no name lowlifes was not an embarrassment Graves wished to subject himself to. So, he continued on, pushing past the sea of people and making a beeline for the Guild of Acquisitions.

Graves didn't know the layout of the city too well. He had studied a map of the place before. He knew the basics, like which direction the town square lied in. However, the specifics were lost on him. Bludd just continued straight until he caught sight of the building's sign, indicating that to be the city's guild. He confirmed that it was the place when he saw the mob of players standing around in the grass next to the flagpoles that people had jerryrigged to denote that they were looking to group up. It wasn't a system Graves used often. He despised working with other people, especially unreliable pubbies. However, he also despised people that tried to get to know him- Graves didn't play Pariah to make friends, so he walked a fine...fine line when it came to who he was willing to work with. That said, Bludd thought he could get at least a handful more runs out of Elian before she overstayed her welcome.

"Yo, Dendrophile? You out here?" The Blood Knight called out, his sharp voice booming over the square. He got more than a few looks from people for his volume and strange vernacular. A hateful scowl drove those curious eyes away from him, however, as Graves wandered the Lefig Lawn in search of his would be companion. He asked a handful of helpful looking individuals if they had seen her around recently.

"You seen a pointy eared whore around here? No? Alright, thanks Fuckface."

"Yeah, an elf. Like the ones Santa uses, but duller. Her nose's the size of a- Are you walking away from me?!"

"Asshats. Yes, I'm talking to you two. Have either of you bitchboys seen-"

Suffice to say, Graves couldn't get anyone to point her out for him. It was frustrating to say the least. Why was everyone so selfish these days? There was a time where he could yell at a random stranger, call them an inbred monkey, and they would happily point him in the direction of whatever he happened to be looking for. Sure, the Bounty Hunter was a little tactless. His manners could definitely use a little work. That didn't mean everyone should ignore him! It was incredibly rude of them to be sure. With a huff, Bludd decided he'd find the elf on his own. "Eeeelffff? Dancing panzy? Heellooo?" Maybe he should've invested in some sort of long range communication device...but that meant giving someone the ability to bother him any time they wanted, and that sounded like ass- so Graves would have to pass and stick to yelling really loudly.

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"It ain't right."

The sweet and southern drawl of Mirage came out to the vendor as he shook his head politely back. He repeated back to her the price of the items she was trying to sell, but she refused once more. "I got paid twice that much a couple days ago, are you trying to play me as some sort of idiot?" Mirage repeated that it wasn't right again, but was returned back with the same scripted speech. Deciding half of the price was better than nothing, she made the deal. In response her stomach grumbled wildly. The main reason she was out selling some of her precious materials she had gathered: hunger.

Thorinn was a bustle of a town, and even more so with the dungeon that had sprouted a few days ago. "Excuse me, Pardon me." The little lady could be heard saying as she made her way through several crowds of people. She was very average in height and build, though a bit on the voluptuous side as far as characters went. Despite Thorinn's winding roads and several dark alley ways, Mirage knew exactly where she was going and what she was going for. Soon in front of her was the vendor selling various meat shish kabobs, a filling and delicious meal for lunch.

"I'll take two. Thank you kindly." Mirage stated, holding up two fingers as she exchanged currency for goods. She held one of the kabobs in her hand as she began taking bites off the other one. Delicious. The great thing about food on a stick is that you can continue on with your journey while you enjoy it. Walking back through the town square, holding her other kabob close as not to wipe the greasy food on to anyone, or stab them with the pointy stick it was skewered on to Mirage was slightly startled by the loud booming voice that erupted.

"Tanks."

Mirage scoffed as her well developed sense of direction and hearing (though it wouldn't take much) found the source of the yelling. He appeared to be looking for someone as he questioned several people for her location. Amused by his technique Mirage decided to follow the man, her trail close enough behind his as to not lose him but not too close as to seem suspicious. It was almost like a mini game- follow the loud mouth until he finds his way or until he finds you.

Mirage smiled to herself as she finished off one of her kabobs. She reached back and dropped the stick into her quiver that was strapped around her back. It was a sturdy stick and it could be used later for crafting an arrow or perhaps a dart. Starting in on the next one, she continued to eat and follow the man. As the flags for groups began to pop up, Mirage understood quickly why the tank was looking for the girl. It was not for love, but for a simple exchange of goods to venture to the dungeon. She hadn't been tuned in to any of the channels that morning or afternoon, so she decided to take a listen to the chatter of first her fraternity, and then the area.

Both channels were similar, a wave of voices speaking of the dungeon and wanting to group up. Within the DROX channel people spoke of how terrible it was that the monsters were terrorizing the small towns and if not for them, what was the dungeon worth fighting through? Mirage agreed with all her being. She didn't care about the dungeon for fame nor fortune, but protection of others was worth any battle. Switching her channels back off so she could focus on the boisterous man again, Mirage spotted him once more.

Finishing off her second kabob she took the stick and proceed to come up to the man and poke him slightly in the back, before dropping the stick backwards into her quiver. A playful smile spread across her thick pink lips as she side stepped around him quickly so the man could not quite see where the small prick had came from. Mirage didn't want to play this game for very long, so she spoke up almost immediately.

"I know the whereabouts of your dancer girl, and I'm joining your group." Mirage stated. It wasn't so much as a trade, but a firm acknowledgement that she knew where he wanted to go, and she knew how to get there, so he was stuck with her. She smiled again, her dark almond eyes creasing. "We got a deal sweetheart?" she asked, though she wouldn't be taking no for an answer regardless.

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A large, wooden cart wheeled along the worn, dirt path, its stone wheels inlaid with iron rims turning steadily and firmly across the earth. The vehicle itself seemed less like a mode of transportation than a portable store, the entire right face of the main body carved open to the winds, revealing the multitude of treasures within. Each and every corner of the interior was packed with bauble of many shapes and sizes. Armors made of scale, metal trinkets that may amuse a small child, there were many varieties of novelty that lay dormant within the small wagon. There was even leather padding for the use of the fairer sex. Only a single area was left untouched, in the middle of the scattered clutter that held three small, wooden stools that were bolted to the flooring. The overarching wooden roof bore two curved bars of metal that held aloft a large, worn sign that read: "Armors, Cloths, and Other Useful Trinkets" in faded, blue paint above the opening in the cart. The front of the transport jutted from the main centerpiece, curved inward to accommodate a driver and a passenger. Two thin, wooden supports prodded farther from the vehicle, latched to a metal frame that contained a large, sturdy stallion, with a mane of hazel and flank of chestnut, who trotted along with barely any effort, unhurried and merely enjoying the sunlight.

In the driver's chair, the young figure of the Sikth armor merchant lay idle in his post, slouched along the entire front porch as a contented sigh relieved itself from his lungs. The man's eyes sluggishly observed as the scenery leisurely rolled by, moving along as slowly as he cared to go. Ochre had learned recently of the sudden appearing dungeon through the Sikth grapevine, specifically through a few people who owe him favors. When someone isn't capable of paying for a product, usually a high-quality piece of armor, he requests favors equal to the equipment's price. Information on high monster movement is one of the smaller favors, but beneficial in the long run. The info had reached him a few days ago, almost within the same hour of it appearing. It gave him a large advantage in heading towards the location, but the lead was quickly lost as others used faster transportation methods than he via teleportation and portals.

Lazily, almost sluggishly, a leather-gloved hand rose to cover the sun's glare from his jade orbs, laying over his head without much care as it slowly slid off of his brow. When it fell, he didn't bother to raise it again.

Well, not that he cared to reach his destination so early, anyway. Arriving before the raiding party did would sweep him up into working for his materials, and while he is fine with doing so, the scale of his efforts would be at least tripled if he was sent to the front lines. He worked better as a mid to back liner during a large raid, setting traps for when the main unit needed to regroup and the bulk of the enemy advanced to capitalize on the disarray. There weren't many who took the same path as he did when it came to spellcasting, even less that took a "trapper" role. Plus, it was easier to skin his targets when they weren't in the thick of the combat. Hopefully he wouldn't have to expend too much energy with this endeavor, else the few days trip might've been more trouble than it was worth.

"Bramby, let's rest for a bit," Ochre unhurriedly called out to the stallion as they passed by a neighboring stream, the hazel-haired equine acquiescing to the request almost as slothfully as its master. With a piteous sigh of exertion, the armorsmith hauled himself to his feet, landing on the dirt with a thud before moving to unlatch the horse from its fetters with a lethargic air. Giving the equine version of thanks via leisurely neigh, the stallion trotted down to the stream, resting on its belly as it began to drink

There was no rush in reaching the City. It would be there in a few hours like it was at this very moment. And, should fate prove him wrong with it's fall within a few hours, he would still have his chance of gathering materials. Would be nice to help out the townspeople instead of picking from a wasteland, but you got what you got.

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Thael stepped off the Gate platform with practiced ease, ignoring by the vertigo that generally accompanied fast travelling in Pariah. Despite the game’s advanced technology, instantaneously moving from one place to another still caused the human body some discomfort. It was something most players got used to, eventually, and Thael barely noticed anymore. Shrugging the greatsword across his back into a more comfortable position, he set off towards the LFG lawn. The greatsword was massive, shiny, with a distinct silvery blue sheen to it. The hilt and crossguard were elaborately wrought in gold, and a blue gemstone was set in the pommel. It went well with Thael’s plate armour, which was resplendent in silver with gold accents and elaborate engravings. A gold cape completed the set. It wasn’t Thael’s best equipment, but it was his most versatile and thus the best suited to venturing into a dungeon he knew little about. He did not wear a helmet; instead, Thael had a very lore unfriendly baseball cap. It was a purely cosmetic item he’d gotten a crafter friend to make ages ago.

The lawn was two steps from absolute chaos, which was a vast improvement over the anarchy that had been pickup groups (PUGS) in the earlier days of the game. In Pariah, it was hard to tell who was playing what role. Still, long experience told Thael that the majority of players on the lawn would be DPS, with the usual shortage of tanks an healers. Still, Pariah ignored the old holy trinity of MMOs. That tall obnoxious bloke in the revealing coat could be a tank just as easily as he could be a healer. A staff could mean a firestorm inducing damage mage just as easily as it could mean a mage-shield-tank. Thael tended to stick with the classics though. Call him a traditionalist. His build reflected that: plain, reliable HP tank. Everyone was so caught up in mitigation tanking or dodge tanking or fancy variations thereof these days, but Thael preferred having scads and scads of health. To each his own.

He summoned a messenger feyling and sent it off to find Elian with a single word “Here”. It was through her he’d learned of the new dungeon, and he was looking forward to running with her again. A healer you knew at your back made any dungeon run way easier, and Elian was a good one. He wasn’t sure who else she might have asked to come along, but knowing her they’d be competent, which was always pleasant. Thael’s last raid had gone smoothly, but he wouldn’t have wanted to take that group into an unfamiliar dungeon. Fighting through known enemies with known strategies was one thing; a new dungeon was quite another.

A surly looking but familiar NPC was standing off to one side of the lawn; Thael knew him to be Underf, the dungeoneer quest giver. “Morning bud,” Thael said as he approached.
“I’m not your bud, pal,” the NPC replied grumpily.
“Au contraire mon frere, all peoples are my bud.”
“Well not me. Do you want your quest or not?”
Thael gave the NPC a long look, weighing the benefits of prodding him further. “Fine. Same as usual?”
“Gold and a random rare item for clearing the dungeon.”
“Alright then, I’ll see you after I’ve cleared the dungeon...bud.”
The NPC scowled but didn’t say anything, and Thael went to find some food. A vendor was selling some kind of meat on a stick that smelled delicious. Thael handed over a few coins and happily munched on the snack as he double checked his gear and inventory. Satisfied with his setup, he set off to find Elian.

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Pyrite Park and Pyrite Square, a perfect place to shop, picnic, have a date, stargaze, or even just to relax. For a number of people, the square shaped park, surrounded by a plethora of shops and restaurants, it's a place to train. There were a number of trees, benches, and stone pathing scattered across the park, but the stretches of grass were enough for the small number of wayfarers. At the center of the park was a massive stone, its sides cut away into a square and images of great battles and heroes etched into it. The top was left untouched, as a large formation of cuboid crystal, metallic and brass colored, rested on the stones top. There were six intergrown cubes, three acting as the base, and the other three stacked on top of each other, reaching into the sky. The crystals were mesmerizing, it's surface rippling in an explosion of color whenever something or someone touched it's edge. It wasn't exactly pyrite, but it was close enough.

It had been weeks since Ebon first arrived at this park and started training, back then she was the only one. Usually earning herself a few strange looks. Now there were at least thirty people every day here, learning under one of the number of masters here. Unfortunately she found herself to be one of these 'masters'. As much as she would like to get back to her flow drills and jogs, she had someone to teach, and no matter what she did, rookies in all shapes and sizes showed up with that look in their eye. She looked at the small group of newbies sitting on the lawn near her, all paying attention, spears, polearms, voulges and glaives on the ground. Ebon let out a quiet sigh and looked at her 'opponent', the person she was supposed to be instructing privately, Hawkwood, Tyhrien's Loremaster.

Ebon cleared her throat, "Right, get into stance. We'll be going with underhand today, focusing on your circles of defence and offense." she unsheathed a dulled, generic saber and tossed the scabbard to the ground to the side.

Hawkwood took a deep breath in, having finished stretching his limbs out. Surprisingly limber for a man as armored as he was, he was surprisingly able to do full-on squats in spite of his armor. Pulling his wooden training spear off the ground, Hawkwood gave it a testing toss to feel for the weight, before nodding. "Perfect weight. So, underhanded it is then?" he asked, shifting his stance accordingly. "Remember prospects, she's the one that knows what she's doing. Listen to her, and watch what I do wrong." Taking up his shield to complete the combat ensemble, Hawkwood stood at the ready, going to give his best in his circles of defence.

Ebon stepped closer to the armored man, "Everyone has what I call circles of defense and offense, every weapon has both." she explained. She tapped the tip of his spear with her sword, "The spear is normally an offensive weapon, thrust or toss. But with a simple addition..." she slid her sword along the edge of his spear and the lugs stopped her blade, "the lugs will parry an opponents weapon. The thrust is part of the circle of offense, using the lugs to parry is part of the circle of defense." she stepped closer. Tapping Hawkwood's shield, "Even the shield has both. Defense is clear, but offense is less obvious. Before we start on demonstrations, Hawk has a third and final circle, one which everyone has, armored or unarmored. Your body. You can use your body to wrestle, tackle, punch and kick." Ebon stepped away and got into an offensive stance a few feet away from Hawkwood. "Now, I will throw a cut from above, Hawk, parry it with your spear, then push it away." Ebon stepped forward then followed through with an overhead cut, stopping mid cut. Hawkwood intercepted the sword with his spear, pushing it away.
"Now my blade is out of line, and I have no defense." She said, Hawkwood stepped forward, pushing the saber further away with his spear. Once in range, he made a punching motion with his shield, using the edge of the shield as his weapon, he stopped before the impact was made. "And that's the offense of a shield. Alternatively you can bash with the shield face." Hawkwood brought back his shield and demonstrated a shield bash.
"Reset." Ebon said, and Hawkwood went back to a defensive stance. Ebon picked up a wooden shield. "The lugs on a spear can also open up an opponents defense." she rose her shield. Hawkwood thrusted his spear high, not quite reaching Ebon, but far enough so that the lugs of his spear went past her shield. He brought the spear down and pulled the shield away from Ebon.
"Reset, now this is trickier, and a bit situational. In a real fight, every part of your opponent is a target. As I retreat and Hawk advances, use the lugs to hook my foot. It will either make me stumble or fall, both of which will halt my retreat, and allow you to advance into an attack." she said. Ebon went back into a defensive stance and retreated slowly, with Hawkwood advancing at the same pace. He thrusted low and wide, then brought the spear to Ebon's ankle and pulled at her foot, stopping once the bottom of her foot was clearly off the ground, letting everyone see. He let her foot go.

"Now, we'll get a quick spar in, then I'll direct you to a proper polearm master." Ebon said, "Hawk, try and use the lugs of your spear more this time."
The two readied themselves, getting into defensive stances. Hawkwood advanced and pulled Ebon's shield away, yanking at the edge closest to her fist. Ebon reacted by letting the shield get pulled, then advanced and pinned Hawkwood's spear between her arm and side. The armored warrior, his spear now bound, pushed Ebon away with his shield. Ebon placed her sword arm between her and the shield, using it as a springboard and letting the spear go, she was pushed back several feet. When she landed, she shifted her stance, going into a more offensive one with her right foot forward, a much more comfortable stance for her.

Hawkwood advanced slowly, cautious, ready to parry any of her strikes. Ebon didn't give him the chance. She did a quick short advance to the side, then a long advance towards Hawkwood, pushing his spear to the side with her shield. She threw an overhead cut, Hawkwood moving his shield to deflect the attack. Ebon halted the attack, a feint, and spun the saber to strike under his shield. The hit landed, striking Hawkwood's back. Ebon had won this quick sparring match. Hawkwood nodded, understanding what had just happened, and relaxed.

Ebon stepped away, tossing the wooden shield aside, "Good work, watch the feints, your armor would have protected you in real combat, but it's better not to be hit at all." she looked over to her audience, "There you've had your demonstration, now go to..." she went on her tip toes and looked around the park, "Tokuma!"
A girl wearing thick blue and navy blue robes, sitting, sipping tea looked over, seeing an Ebon Horizon on her tiptoes, and a group of untested polearm users. She downed her tea quickly, grabbed her naginata and booked it.
"Wha-?" Ebon stared as the spear user ran with impressive speed, "Go catch her! And watch out for her cuts, naginatas are like swords on a stick." Ebon commanded, the rookies shrugged and ran after the spear master.

Removing his helmet, Hawkwood held it under his armpit as he took a breath of fresh air for a moment. "Didn't see the one to the ribs coming. I'll have to remember that one. Last thing I need is a cracked rib halfway through a fight." he said, a casual air to his tone as he picked up the training shield and spear, leaving the latter sticking out of the ground from its butt. The shield he'd leave strapped to it, before going to check on the horse he rode in on, having let it take a break to drink at a nearby enough stable to keep it in sight. Just as he was about to exit the training grounds, the familiar sound of feyling wings cutting through the breeze. His message was plopped right into his hand once he stretched it out, the feyling circling around before landing atop his shoulder. "Take it you got an invitation too?" he questioned, pointing to the one that had arrived for Ebon.
The swordswoman looked up from the small message and nodded, "Lefig Lawn?"
"The same." Hawkwood said, turning over the message. "Wouldn't happen to have a pen on you? Last time I went looking for one I was washing Feyling crap out of my leather."
"Think so." she replied, walking over to her belt and pouches on the ground, she fished out a quill and ink sink, tossing it to Hawkwood, "The message said tomorrow, I'll grab food, water and medical, you grab the other stuff?"

Hawkwood gave a slight nod, saying: "Roger. Meet you at the dungeon, then." he said, penning his message before sending the messenger off. He'd need to resupply on rope and various other dungeon necesseties, plus a bit extra. Could never be too careful in Pariah. Getting onto his horse and paying the stablehand, he went off to the market, leading it by the reins on foot as he did his shopping.

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Having pooled together their various resources obtained from Thorinn's marketplace and grabbed their equipment from the inn, Hawkwood and Ebon had arrived at Lefig Lawn and were prepped for the dungeon run ahead.

"Wonder if its all just made magically, or if its just ancient and buried." Hawkwood said, looking up at the impressive and dangerous structure. "Found a dungeon once that had a library. Most of the books didn't seem nearly as old as the place either. Almost feels like the world's cheating when it pops them out."
Ebon looked towards the dungeon, "I don't think they're buried, seems like the type of thing that wouldn't be buried."

Giving a light shrug with his shoulders, Hawkwood said: "Not many things seem like the kind of things to bury. Archeology turns up some crazy findings sometimes though. Ah well, that's not my field anyhow...Oh! Elian!" he finished with a loud greeting to make himself known, waving to their elven healer friend from across the field.

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Tessa sat in the shade of her small, makeshift wooden booth near the outskirts of Lefig Lawn. There were certain unspoken rules about not vending on the lawn proper, but nearby was generally considered acceptable. With the appearance of a new dungeon, Tessa knew there was business to be made as many adventurers would try and fail repeatedly to find the best optimization for this dungeon. This usually meant buying and re-buying enchantments as they tweak and modify their equipment and builds. Of course, she couldn't work that quickly, and if there was a high demand and a sufficient amount of impatience, she could raise her prices and no one would bat an eyelash. It also gave her a preview of what to expect in the dungeon, for example: if people commissioned more anti-magic runes, then there was probably a lot of magic damage in the dungeon, or at least a particularly nasty magic-based boss. Of course, seeing what other people were building let her give suggestions to her less-informed customers, making her advice seem more legitimate. Groups were good for business too, especially if one had already gone into the dungeon. They usually gave their group members advice or suggestions on how best to deal with the dungeon and often pointed them to the nearest enchanter (Tessa) for optimization and tweaks.

However, Tessa's pool of crystal powder was running a bit low, suggesting it was about time she made the plunge herself to restock on supplies. She might bring it up with the next person to come to her booth and suggest firming a gathering group, as long as she didn't immediately assume they were a prick.

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The sun was already fairly high in the sky before its bright rays punched their way through the angle of Landon's high bedroom window and found his sleeping and unshaven face. His limbs were askew under the scattered covers, perfectly relaxed, though life crept back into them as the light finally woke him from his late morning slumber. He cracked open his eyelids and rolled over, and he reached out a hand toward the bed's other occupant to stroke her hair. "G'mornin', beautiful," he croaked.

The other occupant, startled by his touch to sudden wakefulness, started gnawing on his hand before she realized it was just her human. Then she gave him an apologetic lick before she wriggled out from under his hand and hopped down to the floor. Sylvester the cat meowed at her human as she slipped through the crack of the open bedroom door, her tail teasing with a "come hither" gesture before it followed her out.

Landon sat up, letting the covers fall off his bare chest as he stretched and yawned loudly. He scratched himself in the nonchalant way of someone who lives on their own does, and he flipped a switch mounted on the wall as he grabbed a housecoat from a nearby chair. A series of clicking sounds followed along the wall as he went down the spiral staircase from the upper floor of his workshop down to the kitchen and living room area. All around was the clutter of spare parts, tools left out, and scattered half-finished gadgets, all arrayed in what was actually an organized format on nearly every open flat surface available...including the multitude of shelves and the floor. And the couch. And the kitchen counters. The top of the fridge too.

The ratcheting clank of gears accompanied him to the kitchen as he stuck a cigarette into his mouth and lit it with a lighter of his own making. Sylvester hopped up onto the counter nearby and sat next to her food dish, her eyes focused on the mouth of the machine stationed behind the dish. Landon, meanwhile, patiently reached into a drawer and pulled out a razor blade - the old-fashioned flip-out kind - and used a flat mirror, some shaving soap and a boar's hair brush to shave in the kitchen sink.

Sylvester meowed plaintively, and Landon muttered, "Easy, kitty, just a few more seconds." The black and white cat, who Landon had adopted and didn't realize was female until she had a litter of kittens inside of his prototype steam engine (which caused enough of a delay on the project that he never finished it), did not deign to take his word for it, and pawed at the slot.

Then the clanking reached the kitchen wall behind the coffee machine and the cat food dish, and suddenly, coffee dripped into the pewter tankard and cat food pellets rained down into the dish. Sylvester bent down to crunch away at the food, and Landon rinsed his face (still somewhat unshaven around his jawline and chin, but it looked neater than it had) and grabbed the tankard once it was full. "To yer health," he said with a smirk as he petted Sylvester and took his unreasonably-large coffee cup out to his front porch.

Landon stood on his bare feet as he looked out at the countryside that surrounded his home and workshop, and drank heavily from the tankard once it was cool enough to do so. There were only a few homes close by in this semi-wooded area, and Landon liked the privacy for both his experiments and the simple peaceful quiet that pervaded. He stood there for a while, half-empty tankard in hand, enjoying the fact that he was alive, awake, on his feet, and lots and lots of this world's equivalent of caffeine pumped in his veins. Life wasn't so bad.

"Mr. Longcrooosss!" shouted a young man who ran up to the porch, which startled Landon out of his reverie and caused him to lose his grip on the tankard. He managed to grab it out of the air before it lost so much as a drop, but his cigarette now hung sullenly from one corner of his mouth as he considered the young man.

"No need to shout, Brent," grumbled Landon, then he finished off the coffee in several long swigs before he shook the tankard at the young man. "Now, why are you seeing me this early in the morning?"

"But Mr. Longcross, it's almost noon!"

Landon gave the lad a look that caused Brent to clear his throat self-consciously before he gave his report. "It's a new dungeon! It appeared outside of Thorinn just the other day! It's really close!"

Landon calmly removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke out to one side. "That close, huh..."

"You told me to tell you if anything like that happened."

"Yup, I did."

There were a few moments of silence before Brent coughed pointedly, and Landon grumbled as he dug around in his housecoat for a few gold pieces left loosely in there and handed them to the young man. "Here, one for the info, and the rest is to take care of the place and my cat while I'm gone, like we agreed. If you get anybody to help you, I'll make sure they get paid after I get back."

Brent grinned as he saluted. "Yes sir, Mr. Longcross! Good luck on your trip!" And without another word, he ran back the way he had come down the dusty road.

Landon put the cigarette back in his mouth and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Great, Thorinn...if I hurry, I can probably get to the Gate and join a party in time for..." He continued to mutter his travel calculations to himself as he went back inside and shut the door behind him.

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The gadgeteer stepped out his front door again a few hours later, equipped with his adventuring gear, when he stopped short of the feyling that floated in the air in front of him. He adjusted his cigarette (the third for the day so far) and nodded silently to the small creature, who repeated the message for him before it flitted off into the sky.

"Well, well! Looks like Elly is on the ball!" He smirked around the cig. "And if I know Elly, then this is gonna be more fun than I thought!"

He started off, carrying all the gear he would need, his long coat flapping in the breeze.

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The next day, he was at Lefig Lawn with a horde of other people, players and residents both. Caught in the press, he grunted a few obscenities before he managed to break through the crowd. Squinting in the sunlight, he raised a fingerless-gloved hand up to shade his eyes as he tried to spot Elian. He brought his hands to his mouth as he drew in breath to shout, and-

"Hey, Elian!"

Landon looked up, startled that the words he had just been about to say had come out of someone else's mouth, and he saw her - just as vivacious as ever, he'd say - standing under one of the group banners. Two others approached her, a knight in full armor and at least four weapons strapped to his frame, and a leather-clad woman with a metallic helmet and sabre.

With classic Landon grace, he strolled up in time to interrupt the newcomers by placing himself between them and Elian. "I knew you couldn't keep me away for long, Elly," he said with a shrug of his hands and a waggle of his eyebrows, exaggerated by the goggles on his forehead. Then he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the two adventurers behind him. "You've got more coming than just these two, right? Might be a short raid if we don't get more folks." And then he stepped to one side so he could look at Elian and the others too, take a puff on his cigarette, and continued, "Hey, want to save the introductions for when everybody gets here, or should we just start jabberin' while we wait for the slowpokes?"

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Tiferet blinked the sun out of her eyes as she arrived via Gate in Thorinn. The vertigo really didn't bother her that much anymore; you got used to it after a while, in her experience. She stretched, making the skulls on her dress crinkle and expand in odd ways, before setting off towards the central gathering point for every adventurer in a five-mile radius: Lefig Lawn. The quaint township was quite a bit more crowded than when Tiferet had last visited, so she had to duck and weave through the crowd of NPCs and players, occasionally stopping to investigate an odd smell, or to admire someone whose armor was particularly intriguing. By the time she arrived at Lefig Lawn, almost an hour had gone by, and Tiferet found herself with several interesting little baubles from a shop she had found (now stored in her fiddle case), a kebab (now mostly eaten), and a decent amount less money. Indeed, she had almost forgotten why she was in Thorinn in the first place. That is, until she saw the dungeon rising above her.

A rush of excitement filled her veins, so intense that it actually made her go weak at the knees for a bit. Here she was, with a chance to explore something that was almost entirely foreign. Not just to her, but to anyone. Such an opportunity only came along rarely, and she’d be a fool to pass it up. Tiferet stared up at the dungeon’s many spires, the skull’s teeth painted on her face replaced by a huge grin. ”This is gonna be the coolest. Thing. Ever.” She started striding towards it (ignoring the few weird looks she was getting; happened all the time), but was stopped by the sound of a man’s voice shouting “Elian!”

That wasn’t her name, of course, but it was the name of a certain dancer that Tiferet had had the pleasure of working with before, both in dungeons and in performances. While Elian could be kinda… What’s the word… Shit, I actually forgot the word, what was it… Fiery! Elian could be kinda fiery sometimes, but that was only if you were an idiot in her vicinity. Otherwise, the girl was a doll. Unfortunately, she was also on the other side of the fairly large central area. Tiferet’s mind was made up in an instant.

She finished off her kebab and stuck the stick down the back of a nearby player’s shirt, then moved a bit closer to Elian, taking her fiddle out of its case as she did so. Once she had everything set up (and retrieved the knick-knacks that had spilled from the case), Tiferet put bow to strings and began to play a violin-only version of one of her favorite songs as loud as she could without being a nuisance. Hopefully this would get Elian’s attention, and earn her a bit of cash besides.

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Red eyes flickered open, immediately attentive. Something was amiss. Peeling the duvet back cautiously, bare legs snaked their way out and around, greeting the cold air with a slight shiver but not wavering from their mission. Quietly, she swept her entire body around until half of her frame dangled from the bed. Then, with the guile of a hunter, she leaned down until the underside of the bed greeted her. Her red eyes danced once more, trailing through every corner under the bed until she was truly satisfied there was nothing there. Despite that, the feeling that she wasn't quite alone didn't disappear. With a tug, she pulled herself back onto the bed and peered through the room.

She had been mapping small hamlets along the egde of the known world and using the chance to sell some of her wares along the way. Unfortunately, most of the smaller places didn't even have an inn so she usually boarded with one of the residents which was the exact situation she just so happened to be in.

Feet met the cold timber floor and she slowly advanced forward, her posture shaky yet coiled to attack. Dawn blinked through the window, a silent observer to the strange hunt that was taking place. Tip-toeing forward, her eyes swept the entire room and she settled into a small scowl, as if the very bricks had done wrong against her. It was in that moment that she noticed a shimmer in the room, a momentary object breaking the light before slipping back into invisibility. Not wasting a moment, she leapt and collided with something. When the dust settled, Red was already grinning like a fool. "Looks like your perving days are over, bu-" By the time her mind had already computed the small stature of the Feyling, the eldest son of the family she was lodging with had already flew into the room, fearing the worst.

Needless to say, a grinning, half-naked fire mage holding a Feyling down was not one of the possibilities that crossed his mind when he rushed to her aid. He quietly exited and closed the door.

"So what's the big deal, schmuck?" Playing it cool was her only option so she sat back and casually inspected her fingernails. The fairy-like creature summoned up the darkest look it could which was about equivalent to an angry puppy. Nevertheless, it delivered its message. "The council want me to investigate it?" It nodded in response. "Why don't they get one of the big shots to poke around?" Its dainty voice rose once more. "They aren't idiotic enough to run a dungeo-? Hey! You guys really don't sugercoat it much, huh?"

With a shrug, the Feyling took flight and was away as soon as it had appeared. Well, it looked like she wasn't mapping anymore. The council probably knew her moronic curiosity would get the better of her but she was still confused as to why the council of fire mages were so interested in some dungeon. Whatever it was, it meant she got to blow shit up and claim it was for science.

Changing into her gear, she packed up what little belongings she carried on her and carefully held her hat under her arm as she descended down to the already busy kitchen. The eldest son didn't lift his head from his bowl of gruel. Poor thing. The family insisted she stayed for breakfast but after denying them more than enough times, they let her go with a lunch stored away and some information on a cart that had passed through in the night. If she made good headway, she could catch up with it.

Pinning her half cloak with a small broach and dragging her hat down over her weaves of hair, she was ready to roll. Taking off like an ADHD bat out of hell, fire licked at her feet as she set off along the road.

A number of hours later, she came upon the bumbling cart carelessly trudging along the road towards Thorinn. The driver initially thought he was being robbed when an out-of-breath wanderer jumped in front of his cart but after a quick explanation, they were off again with her taking a back seat in the cart. The ride was boring but she learned a great deal - the horse was called Jeffrey and he was quite susceptible to apples she commandeered from an orchard a few towns back. The trader was an old man but undeniably an NPC. She told him she was on a top secret mission to go to Thorinn and do the dungeon; he told her he was just going to profit off other people doing top secret missions. It was an interesting exchange.

They stopped on the side of the road for the night. She sort of hoped that bandits would try a raid so she could fry them but unfortunately, her night was spent talking to Jeffrey. She had a feeling he didn't listen too much.

By the time they set off in the morning, Thorinn could already be made out just above the horizon. The last leg of the journey didn't take too long and the road was already busy with traders coming to capitalise on the crowds that had gathered for the dungeon. She thought she spotted a craftsman she knew in his cart so she gave him a wave and a "Hello Mr Blacksmith man!"

Thorinn was reached in a matter of hours and when they finally parted ways, she gave the merchant a small glass sparrow she had stowed away. He could probably get a good price for it so it would make the journey profitable, at the least. Seperating finally, she wandered into the bustling City of Thorinn. Despite having the looming threat of a massive dungeon, excitement ran through the air. Locals shared suspicious glares with groups of wayfarers and lamented that they could either hold their tongue or lose their homes. Red didn't care, however, she was there for one thing and one thing only - setting shit on fire. And blowing it up, preferably.

Using noise to guide herself, she finally found her way into the bustling Lefig Lawn. Trying to push through it wasn't exactly easy when it was swamped with tanks with pecs of stones standing around, looking pretty. Climbing a wall to get a vantage point, it was clear that a number of raiding parties were already being forged together under the bright summer sun. Sky never really liked parties but she would need one for a dungeon of this school. Choosing one was nigh on impossible but thankfully, she spotted something glittering in the sun. A voice carried over the wind and she made up her mind.

She needed something to clear the crowds out of her way so she quietly knelt down, clutching a handful of dust into her right hand. Standing, she raised her left hand and slowly formed a ball of flames. Suspending it, she set it into a spin about its axis and masterfully crushed the ball down to size. When it was flattened, she used her gloves to pull it out into a flat shape. This had already gained enough attention so as to have the vicinity cleared around her. Holding the shape steady, she raised her other hand and blew the dust through the thin wall of flame.

What emerged was a small creature, not even the size of a small dog but made entirely of fire. It had the body of a snake but wings adorned its sides allowing it to float peacefully through the air. Red called him Theodore - he was almost entirely useless, possessing no combat strengths but he looked cool and that was all that mattered.

Whirling around, it greeted her with a hiss that sounded like water boiling. She gave his head a quick pat which earned another cautious step back from onlookers. "Right Teddy, clear a path! And if anyone gets in your way, I'll barbecue them and feed them to the crocs! I wonder if crocodiles would eat barbecued wayfarers... I suppose it wouldn't make too much of a difference from normal wayfarers. We should probably check sometime, for science, you know?" Snapping, he zipped around and did just that as cautious wayfarers made way for the floating fire snake and his estranged mistress.

Marching in the direction of the glimmer with ease, she finally reached a less populated corner of the square. The group she found there were quite inconspicuous and one could be fooled into thinking they weren't overly powerful but they would be very wrong. Red knew nearly all of them for a good reason. They were all renowned for their individual positions and led by none other than the fiery healer, Elian Zefra. She sometimes got the feeling that every time she opened her mouth, the healer drew a little closer to letting her die in the battlefield but so far, they seemed to get on like a house on fire.

She wondered how she would make her grand entrance. She could coolly stand off to the stand and make a passive aggressive comment everyone would appreciate or she could have boldly stated her position. None of this worked out, of course, when Theodore took the approaching wall of armour (Thael) to be his enemy and boldly rushed into battle.

And thus, Red's introduction to the group was a series of curses aimed at a flying fire snake which was attempting to attack a tank a great deal larger than it. Overall, not so bad in her books.

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Thael had just located Elian amidst the chaos of the lawn when he was suddenly accosted by a flaming snake. The creature began nipping at his ankles, emitting a string of angry hisses as it did so. Thael looked down at the serpent, bemused. It twirled around him in a hypnotic display of light, before he reached down and delicately grabbed it in one armoured gauntlet. The snake hissed again, and Thael frowned at it plaintively. “What did I ever do to you smol pupper?”

An opulently dressed brunette came cursing after the snake. Thael offered it back to her gingerly. “I your dog has autism,” he said with a grin.

The weird fella with the baseball hat was a lot taller up close than she expected. She almost feared for Teddy's fate and was about to blast the wall of armour with some dragon fire but he handed her buddy back to her. The joke that accompanied Teddy confused her, then confused her a bit more then after about thirty seconds she cackled. "Now that you say that, he's been hissing at me all day and he's really burning up! Maybe he has a fever? Elian! Teddy has a fever!" Usually moaning in the general direction of a healer resulted in something.

Thael laughed loudly and turned his attention back to the assembled group. There was a small collection of players with Elian, some of whom Thael recognized. Hawkwood and Ebon, as fellow Tyhriens, were not close friends but certainly familiar faces. Welcome ones at that. Hybridized builds had become increasingly useful as Pariah grew. The game didn’t really have onerous DPS checks, but bosses did deal loads of damage so anyone who could contribute to healing was always welcome. Indeed, even Thael and his traditionalist ways had conceded the usefulness of adding a few healing and damage skills to his roster. Besides Elian, Ebon, and Hawkwood, there was a blonde man in a leather coat was unfamiliar to Thael.

“Good morning scrubs and scrubettes,” he called out with a big smile. “Are we ready to get moving, get pwning, and most importantly, GIT GUD? For those that do not know, I am Thael, and I will be using my hella strongth and toight aggro to tunk for you today.

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To say that the group gathered here today for some holy matrimony of steel against monster ass was odd would be...100% accurate. While Hawkwood was familiar with most of them in passing, the wannabe Knight wasn't especially familiar with the new arrival of the goggled man or the person who seemed to be offering enchantments for a fee. Of course though, he could never forget Elian...one of the many healers he respected for having the stones to hold their own in a fight, and be damn scarier than the people she kept going back into the fight. At least, when it came to that. Chuckling beneath his helmet as he moved to remove it, Hawkwood spoke: "An honor to be promoted then. What was it last time again? Knight in shining Armoire?" he questioned, having not quite lived down the time he mistook a bottle of shoe polish for armor polish. Wood wasn't a particularly flattering texture on armor. He'd have to wait on that joke-question, seeing as Elian was now a bit preoccupied. No matter, there was socializing to be done, and with someone who seemed rather pleasant. After all, not many incompetents or delinquents managed to last long against Elian's wit. And insults. Those things really smarted. He knew, especially in the earlier days of him playing Pariah. Back when he really was just some scholar pretending to be a Knight.

"She will. Seen her do it once." the knight said to the new-to-him-guy. "Don't think I've ever seen someone sink that far on something that sharp from the ass. Hawkwood, by the by. If you're in the market for useless local legends and the names of ancient elven nobles, I'm the man to ask." he'd say, extending a gauntlet-ed hand for him to shake, turning his head to observe the flaming snake getting handled like a common garter. Well...better Thael than him. He'd always been a bit wary about snakes...even without poison, they were diseased little things. Not to mention the time in his childhood where hundreds of garters nested in his bedroom wall...a hundred pissed garters make more noise than a train derailing when its right by your ear. Thael handled it well though, despite his butchering of the English...wait, what was the language here even called? There's no England to speak of! Well...guess it isn't butchering if its not English. Despite his 1337 gamer speak, there wasn't a single person Hawkwood knew who was better at making sure the more fragile members of their little congregations stayed unbroken. Even Hawkwood himself was mostly a supportive tank, and he'd had his skin saved more than enough times by the Mountain of a Man that was cenaThael. Maybe sometime he'd have to ask for workout tips.

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Graves was growing increasingly annoyed with the influx of players on Lefig Lawn. The crowds were as thick as a forest, and made finding the singular tiny elf girl a near impossible task akin to looking for a needle in a haystack. In his irritation, the gigantic tank bulldozed his way through anyone too slow or too stupid to get out of his way. His tactless and rude behavior earned him a number of crude remarks and curses aimed in his direction, but the Mutilator of Men was too annoyed with his current predicament to care what a couple of worthless hacks said. His search was going nowhere fast. For all the ground he was managing to cover, Graves didn't see any sign of the prancing tree hugger or the crowd of mooks she'd invariably gathered for their little excursion into the nearby dungeon that had recently cropped up outside of Thorinn. It was at times like these that the hermit warrior almost considered forgoing his communications black out and picking up one of those fancy-smancy ear pieces that were all the rage these days. It only took a moment's interaction with another living, breathing person for Bludd to remember why he had refused to take one in the first place. People were a waste of his time. He didn't quite see the irony in hating interacting with other people in an MMO of all things.

It was during one of his many turn arounds that the broad shouldered monster of a man felt something prick against his back. Graves let out a surprised and not at all manly help, swinging around to face whomever had forced such a humiliating sound from his lips. His fist was raised and he was ready to deck the dumb bastard that had done it- yet, no sign of the perpetrator could be found. "Huh?" The Blood Knight blinked, confusion overtaking his blind rage. Only a moment passed before the attacker revealed herself, calling out to Graves from out of his line of sight. He ground his teeth together, towering over the ranger woman like a mountain before an ant. Not only had she poked him and embarrassed him so, she had the audacity to demand she join his group in exchange for Elian's whereabouts. The stranger didn't ask. She demanded. Nay, more than that, she was practically extorting him. Fury burned in the heart of the intrepid anti-hero. He considered his options carefully; the most prominent of which was to ram his knuckles into those flawless teeth of hers. His first instinct, as appealing as it sounded, was a bad idea. 'If I hit a pretty little thing like that I'm gonna have two dozen basement dwelling wannabe white knights on my ass in five seconds flat.'

The tank begrudgingly unclenched his jaw and took a second to breathe. After calming himself down, Graves leaned forward and got within a few inches of Mirage's face. "Fine," He replied, venom dripping from every word, "But on one condition: don't call me sweetheart again. If you do, I'm shoving my fist through your face- and we don't want to ruin the only thing you've got going for you, do we?" After hopefully proving his point and putting the fear of God into the woman, Bludd stood straight once more. "Now where'd you see the elf, hick?"

Luckily for the Blood Knight, he wouldn't have to rely on his new unwanted companion to find the dancer. Graves head swiveled in the direction the coarse sound came from, his eyes naturally attracted to the golden fan waving in the sunlight. "Ha, found her! You weren't much help." Bludd started toward Elian, shoving everyone out of his way as he made a direct beeline to her side, cutting a swath in the crowds as he did. The bullheaded fighter looked between the many people that were hanging around Elian's LFG flag, his frown deepening. Were they all coming with? Graves knew that clearing a dungeon with a small party was quite difficult, but he preferred the challenge over having to spend time with even a remotely large group of people.

It didn't take more than a few seconds for him to find someone among them to hate. His disgusted gaze fell upon the baseball cap wearing steroid infused buffoon. The asshole spoke like a stereotypical neckbearded fedora tipping fuckboy you'd find skulking internet forums. "I think I'm gonna puke." Graves muttered to Mirage in his usual hateful tone. He cleared his throat, addressing the man child directly. "Were you dropped on your head as a kid or is your inability to speak properly a preexisting condition?" Some might say that Graves was being a tad too aggressive. They might say that maybe he should calm down a little, and take the moron's 'leet speak' as a light hearted joke. Some people might deserve a quick kick in the ass for questioning Bludd.

Thael wasn't the only one the bare-chested tank took issue with. The owner of the fiery flying snake spirit looked like she was a spaz too. Graves had little patience for people like that; he could only hope her antics were merely a temporary affair brought on by insanity or a heat stroke. He wasn't sure how much more he could bear if it turned out the fire mage was usually so...Ugh. The rest of them didn't seem to be nearly as irritating as the first two, thankfully. Elian was always a handful, but the woman was a damn good healer so he wasn't going to complain too much. The straight laced knight that introduced himself as Hawkwood wasn't awful. Bludd had met many less agreeable people than he. The fencer had thus far said very little, which automatically promoted her to the Blood Knight's favorite- or, more acurrately, least loathed. The goggle toting guy talked too much. And his face was kind of annoying. Other than that, there wasn't a great deal for Bludd to complain about.

"I'm Graves." He grunted. Better to get introductions out of the way so he didn't have to speak to all of them individually. "The hick's coming along too." Bludd jutted a thumb behind him.

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The young woman could barely contain her smile while the large buffoon spun around in confusion and a rather girlish yelp escaped his lips. She almost felt bad for him at that moment, but that opinion quickly changed when his massive fist was clenched and ready to fight the person that betrayed him. After she stated her demands the man looked down at her, towering. She smiled right back, a glint of daring in her eyes before his face fell close to hers. She pursed her lips as to kiss him, but was met with his threat.

Pulling away she clicked her tongue, "Only thing going for me?" she repeated herself, "Only thing going for ME?" the emphasis on the end of the sentence direct as she used her hand to showcase her body. "Y'all must not be able to see from way up there, and ya don't know a lick about me, so don't you dare say those things." she commented, "I wasn't the baby yelping over no toothpick neither, sweetheart." she made her the last bit of that was said loud enough so that he knew she wasn't afraid of him.

Most if not all of Mirage's comments were ignored by the man, as he took off towards the elf woman.

He commented on her not being much help but Mirage shrugged. She was helpful in the fact that she had jump started the man's brain into seeing the woman that had been in front of him the whole time. Men sometimes needed that extra guiding hand when it came to those sort of things. Mirage followed him close by, as he went to the group of people that were gathered by the flag. He had agreed to their deal despite him finding her himself.

Looking towards everyone she took in their appearance, nodding and waiting for her moment to talk. The mountain finally said his name as she noted it as Graves. Soon after, he introduced her as the hick. Her lips formed into a pout, "I ain't no hick." she commented, moving from behind Graves to properly introduce herself, "I'm Mirage. Ranger and then some." she smiled giving a small wave to the group.

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Landon shook Hawkwood's hand heartily - like most of life, Landon figured that if you were going to do a handshake, you should do it with feeling. "Landon," he introduced himself in his gruff and straightforward fashion. "I've been with her on a few raids before myself, but she and I have an agreement - I keep my hands off her, and she doesn't kill me dead. S'worked out so far."

He had listened to Hawkwood's rather nerdy introduction with only part of his attention, not because he wanted to be rude, since he did enjoy learning about the world of Pariah. It was more because, about that time, Hawkwood was distracted by the fire snake that flew through the air at the armored warrior who had just joined them, and Landon was distracted by the combination of not one, or even two, but three ladies he was not acquainted with who were joining the party. As each one came into his focus, he eyed them critically, drinking in what he saw like a hearty swig. His was not the dropped jaw drooling like some hormone-driven fool - he was an artiste, a connoisseur, more like a fine wine taster when it came to women than a ridiculous drunkard throwing his money at the first drink that came across his path. His only failing in this respect was possibly that he didn't really consider how young these women were in comparison to himself - something that might be easy to overlook when he knew for a near certainty that none of these women were even close to his age in the real world.

He introduced himself quickly and quietly to the first, the fencer with the metal mask. Ebon, her name was. Landon privately thought it was a shame that her clothing was so utterly...practical. She seemed rather cute, and friendly enough, though just a bit distant and reserved. Landon guessed she might open up a bit more once she got more familiar with him and the rest of the group, but for now, she was maintaining a professional distance Landon hoped wouldn't last too long.

The fire mage that came storming after her flaming pet, though...whew! It was less to do with the way she looked, though she was pretty enough. and more with her fiery personality. "Hot stuff, comin' through," he muttered to himself with a smirk as he took a puff on his cigarette. Yes, she was a firebrand, all right, the kind of girl who made the boys hot and bothered because she was like fire, dangerous to handle but pretty enough that it was hard not to reach out and try to touch her anyway. He was of half a mind to introduce himself right away and try to catch her off-balance, but she was already charging full-steam for Elian. He shrugged; there would be time later to explore that possible avenue.

And, just when he had decided he would have his hands full following up with each of these lovely ladies after the raid was through, that was when the woman who was introduced as a hick arrived, and my! Now here was a heartbreaker! Landon was of the city through and through, so a red-blooded country woman was as exotic as a belly dancer from a foreign country. Confidence was definitely behind her every move, even from the cute pout of her lips to the distracting sashay of her hips. To her introduction, he answered her last line with, "So I see!" with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows and a rakish grin.

His attention returned to the group at large, and he figured this seemed like a better crew for the raid than it had even just moments before. He didn't imagine it would be much longer before they left for the dungeon, and the way he saw it, the sooner, the better - though he hoped he could pass the travel time to and from getting to know these beautiful ladies a little better.

"So, Elly, when are we getting this show on the road, huh?"