Sky Blue
The Irish Tree
Phase
PaulHaynek
Lucid Dreaming
AzureKnight
The Otter
Kronshi
JewelSerket
NoriWasHereCasually strolling out of the cargo hanger, and into the proper township of Zweidaya, John would listen to the sounds of hustle and bustle of a city that drifted upon a sea of sand. Immediately, her mind set to working on her circumstances, and the last few things she remembered - prominently, the Uveran twins were featured, but she knew they were of zero importance to the matter of her exile; a pair of wandering savages were nothing but wandering potential to certain trades in Averton.
No, there was a better reason...
'Those mercenaries...' John rubbed the back of her head, trying to "warm" her brain. 'They were dressed in Walton fashion. Adorned in their coat-of-arms,' she grimaced, holding her chest. 'Those chumps weren't any kind of trained force, however. Not even close. Probably had those insignias for show. Bazz was the actual threat,' John straightened her back, as she pushed through a crowded marketplace, 'Still, those were Walton colours, and legit. Likely, Bazz rounded up some hoodlums to try and coax me into conceding - using them as cannon fodder for his bombs. They were dead as soon as they suited up...'
Around her, the distracting hawkers pitched their wares, goods, and services alike and aplenty. A town that moved from place to place, serving as a port for locales of all sorts, made for a varied and exotic shopping trip - both material and immaterial. It wasn't enough to tear her from her thoughts, however, as she continued through them...
'But, for what and for why,' John asks. 'What am I not remembering? There's a piece of the puzzle locked out of my head...' John admired a pile of saltpeter, as she stood before a stand selling alchemical reagents.'Could it be about the Duchess? What was her name? I barely remember her face. I don't even remember where I fucked her...' John moved to a fruit stand, overlooking the produce with scrutiny, 'An office, I think. Her husband's? No, no... I remember her saying that was too risky...' Plucking a banana, John purchased the nicely ripened fruit, and continued moving, 'There were papers on the desk. Correspondence between Waltom and Averton, but I can't remember what they said...'
Finishing her banana, John dropped the peel upon the ground, and carried on. Almost cartoonishly, a little trio of thugs - boys, really - rounded the corner, and one of them hit the peel; squishing the skin and sliding upon its slippery underside. John turned, as she heard the shout and crack of the fallen thug, as he hit ground. Looking back, John chuckled, and rubbed the back of her head.
"My bad, dude," John started, as she walked back over to retrieve the fruit skin, "I guess, I should have thrown this away."
"You did this?"
"I mean, kinda," John shrugged. "He wasn't paying attention, though," she accused, as she wasn't going down with the ship alone, "Oh, stop crying, you baby. You just hit your head. You'll be fi -- "
John was cut short by the *shick~!* of a switchblade, and she stood up with a grimace. "You don't want to do this. I'm not outnumbered. Not even close. There's only three of you, and one of you is -- "
"Shut up, bitch! You got two options: hand over all your money or we'll take it out of your organs."
"If you have guns, I would suggest using those," John says, coldly, as she picked up the banana peel, "This is going to suck for you..."
"I said, shut up, and hand over the money, before I -- "
There was a *fwoosh~!* that cut him short, before a flame was thrown at him; the banana peel ignited as a brief ball of fire, as the oils in the skin burst from John's flame. Before he could commit to screaming and scrambling to get the burning peel off his face, John was already on him; catching his knife hand in her left, and driving her right into his worst - cracking the bone and damaging the tendon, before she took the knife into her left palm.
"F-Fuck!" shouted the second man, as he barely comprehended the fight, before his brain scrambled to catch up with the burning pain in his leg. Sticking out of his left thigh was the first man's knife - glowing red to the point of vermillion. Dropping to the ground, screaming, the second man was torn between removing the knife and leaving it in.
"Get up, little boy," John says, pointing her shotgun at the third, still lying on the ground. "His left wrist is broken, and he's got a knife wound. Likely, you have a concussion. So, you two help him walk to the hospital or whatever you have around here, and get treatment." John motioned with her shotgun to hustle, and her demands were met at gunpoint. It would have been clearly foolish to do elsewise at this point. "Oh, here," John says, finishing out her money from her coat. "That should cover your medical bills, to a degree. Now, get lost, before I become uncharitable..."
Warning received, the trio would get lost, and John would pick up the charred banana peel. "Damn, now I'm actually broke..." she sighed, before her eyes tilted to the side - crimson, once more. "I'm not in a charitable mood anymore. If you wanna start something..."
"Naw, naw, cher..." spoke a woman with a deep accent, likely of Walton lineage - outskirts, judging from her rural dressing. "I couldn't help but marvel at your little display. Such talented fighting skills, and the way you used that banana peel as a weapon, not to mention that little trick with the knife, and -- "
"To the point," John says, standing up.
"I heard you’re a bit cash deficient, now? Pesky thing, being charitable to today's ignorant youth. Costly, too. However, someone like you... well, I know where you can put your fighting skills to work without worrying about any adverse costs."
"Colour me interested..." John says.
"Follow me," the woman offers, adding with a purr, "You can keep that big cannon of yours at my back the whole time, just to prove there's no funny business..."
"Trust me, I plan to," John says, before following her new tour guide of Zweidaya.
No, there was a better reason...
'Those mercenaries...' John rubbed the back of her head, trying to "warm" her brain. 'They were dressed in Walton fashion. Adorned in their coat-of-arms,' she grimaced, holding her chest. 'Those chumps weren't any kind of trained force, however. Not even close. Probably had those insignias for show. Bazz was the actual threat,' John straightened her back, as she pushed through a crowded marketplace, 'Still, those were Walton colours, and legit. Likely, Bazz rounded up some hoodlums to try and coax me into conceding - using them as cannon fodder for his bombs. They were dead as soon as they suited up...'
Around her, the distracting hawkers pitched their wares, goods, and services alike and aplenty. A town that moved from place to place, serving as a port for locales of all sorts, made for a varied and exotic shopping trip - both material and immaterial. It wasn't enough to tear her from her thoughts, however, as she continued through them...
'But, for what and for why,' John asks. 'What am I not remembering? There's a piece of the puzzle locked out of my head...' John admired a pile of saltpeter, as she stood before a stand selling alchemical reagents.'Could it be about the Duchess? What was her name? I barely remember her face. I don't even remember where I fucked her...' John moved to a fruit stand, overlooking the produce with scrutiny, 'An office, I think. Her husband's? No, no... I remember her saying that was too risky...' Plucking a banana, John purchased the nicely ripened fruit, and continued moving, 'There were papers on the desk. Correspondence between Waltom and Averton, but I can't remember what they said...'
Finishing her banana, John dropped the peel upon the ground, and carried on. Almost cartoonishly, a little trio of thugs - boys, really - rounded the corner, and one of them hit the peel; squishing the skin and sliding upon its slippery underside. John turned, as she heard the shout and crack of the fallen thug, as he hit ground. Looking back, John chuckled, and rubbed the back of her head.
"My bad, dude," John started, as she walked back over to retrieve the fruit skin, "I guess, I should have thrown this away."
"You did this?"
"I mean, kinda," John shrugged. "He wasn't paying attention, though," she accused, as she wasn't going down with the ship alone, "Oh, stop crying, you baby. You just hit your head. You'll be fi -- "
John was cut short by the *shick~!* of a switchblade, and she stood up with a grimace. "You don't want to do this. I'm not outnumbered. Not even close. There's only three of you, and one of you is -- "
"Shut up, bitch! You got two options: hand over all your money or we'll take it out of your organs."
"If you have guns, I would suggest using those," John says, coldly, as she picked up the banana peel, "This is going to suck for you..."
"I said, shut up, and hand over the money, before I -- "
There was a *fwoosh~!* that cut him short, before a flame was thrown at him; the banana peel ignited as a brief ball of fire, as the oils in the skin burst from John's flame. Before he could commit to screaming and scrambling to get the burning peel off his face, John was already on him; catching his knife hand in her left, and driving her right into his worst - cracking the bone and damaging the tendon, before she took the knife into her left palm.
"F-Fuck!" shouted the second man, as he barely comprehended the fight, before his brain scrambled to catch up with the burning pain in his leg. Sticking out of his left thigh was the first man's knife - glowing red to the point of vermillion. Dropping to the ground, screaming, the second man was torn between removing the knife and leaving it in.
"Get up, little boy," John says, pointing her shotgun at the third, still lying on the ground. "His left wrist is broken, and he's got a knife wound. Likely, you have a concussion. So, you two help him walk to the hospital or whatever you have around here, and get treatment." John motioned with her shotgun to hustle, and her demands were met at gunpoint. It would have been clearly foolish to do elsewise at this point. "Oh, here," John says, finishing out her money from her coat. "That should cover your medical bills, to a degree. Now, get lost, before I become uncharitable..."
Warning received, the trio would get lost, and John would pick up the charred banana peel. "Damn, now I'm actually broke..." she sighed, before her eyes tilted to the side - crimson, once more. "I'm not in a charitable mood anymore. If you wanna start something..."
"Naw, naw, cher..." spoke a woman with a deep accent, likely of Walton lineage - outskirts, judging from her rural dressing. "I couldn't help but marvel at your little display. Such talented fighting skills, and the way you used that banana peel as a weapon, not to mention that little trick with the knife, and -- "
"To the point," John says, standing up.
"I heard you’re a bit cash deficient, now? Pesky thing, being charitable to today's ignorant youth. Costly, too. However, someone like you... well, I know where you can put your fighting skills to work without worrying about any adverse costs."
"Colour me interested..." John says.
"Follow me," the woman offers, adding with a purr, "You can keep that big cannon of yours at my back the whole time, just to prove there's no funny business..."
"Trust me, I plan to," John says, before following her new tour guide of Zweidaya.