Alto seemed to be the careful sort. Even Rio didn't seem so eager about the prospect of actually fighting without even the most basic amount of essence to empower or shield him. Chloe, thankfully, was making her way back to the door. Was Iraleth fully-armored and with a sword? She didn't draw it and didn't rush out the carriage, that was for sure. And there was no way at all that they were going to let Ciara out during this.
Well, honestly, if Alto was as powerful as he presented himself to be, the Instructor shouldn't have any problem mopping up a bunch of brigands and bandits. There was no reason for Otis to step in, except for one.
Rekordia.
Even now, they thought that those that developed Ethos would serve as better fuel for the Gearveins, huh? Naught more than a group of idiotic number-crunchers, chasing delusion, and craven slavers, chasing gold.
Amber eyes narrowed through the carriage windows, and without hesitation, Otis shot first, unloading six shots upon the brigands on one side.
I don’t have too much to add in that direction, but it’d be nice if they became enemies. They have mirror-matched backstories but couldn’t be any more diametrically opposed to one another and whatnot.
He didn’t have a sense, really, of whether or not this was something he was comfortable with or not. It was warm though, so that was a plus. But the soot was already dying his white shirt gray, so that was a minus. Plenty of freebies along the way though, another plus. A gathering of weirdos in the distance, that was a min-
Wait, no, plus, plus, plus. Goddamn. One of em looked actually angelic, a pale bloom that just begged to be plucked and preserved, while another looked like the type of person you wanted to get euthanized via sex with. There were a handful of others, a curious baldie with an interesting head-shape and a deranged but charming personality and a brat that seemed to have the same idea that he had, coming into this. He favored her with a smile, which was really just the narrowing of his amber eye and a wordless opening of his lipless mouth as a slender finger ‘tapped’ against the side of the fluorescent flame that made up perhaps a quarter of his head.
She held her spear in her hand; he had salvaged three and stuck them into his head before making it halfway to join the others amongst the ruins of a pyrrhic resistance.
Of course, now that he was looking over the men who gathered (a much more dour gang of fellows), perhaps he should’ve settled for two instead. That white-haired man’s swords looked like they’d fetch something nice on the market. If there was a market. What even was a market?
“Huh. Shit.”
Pain in the ass. Habit moved his actions and thoughts, but there was only a vague sense of understanding where those habits came from. And right now, such habits turned towards…
“C’mon, you didn’t scalp yourself while shaving, didja?” He spoke instead, a lax derision slathered over his tone as he turned to the bald woman. “Ain’t no way I came from the same place as these frumpy bastards. Not from the same place as the darling princess over there either, that’s for sure.” The lanky man’s gaze turned to his surroundings once more, confirming what he already knew. Piles of burnt bodies, defenses in every direction, and yet no sign of what it was that pushed these people to the brink. They weren’t gonna survive a second attack, that was for sure. But hey.
“Now now, don’t be so harsh on the boy,” he said, shifting attentions to the statuesque witch-lady. “I’m sure every kid’s wanted to say a line like that once in their life. Nevermind that since we’re here, we’ve definitely all been ‘broken’ at least once.”
"Fuck, I don't know, 30, give or take 10 years?" "Wait, seriously? Well, shit, guess I just gotta unzip then." "Kehehe, what, do I look less human than some of the other fucks around here?"
A foul-mouthed criminal, always looking out for number one but willing to play longer cons whenever necessary. For people like him, after all, a desperate life in the wild and an isolated world of solitary individuals is the worst situation to be in. The fuck's he gonna do if there's nothing to take, after all? Rub two sticks together like a monkey and hope things work out?
⑇⑉What You Remember⑉⑈
Couldn't cut it out as an honest one after all. Teach told him that he could've been a craftsman or something. Smart head on his shoulders and quick fingers on his arms or something like that, but c'mon. That was a waste. Apprenticing for ten years to a miserable bastard that never made enough to retire, only to end up bent over like a bitch over the table while some fat cunt rails you (verbally) for not making the quota on whatever dingle-doodle he was supposed to sell at a 500% markup? His smart head told him that there were better things he could do with his hands, so why not go for what would leave a proper mark?
There was that one guy, after all, who had the right idea.
Steal from the rich, share with the poor, and whammo, you'd be the most popular guy on the block! Do that on a larger scale, start challenging shitty lords and worse kings, and kaplow, you're basically a hero of the commonfolk! Free beer on the tap, songs written in your name, and a crowd of ladies wanting to ride you for free! It was just that easy. You'd have to be an idiot not to do it.
⑴ Half his head is missing, and in its place, there is a heatless flame, a bright energy that roars like a bonfire, yet without sound or warmth. A pale, fluorescent brilliance, one that serves as an opening to another space. He can place things in there and pull things out of there. He's tested it. Apparently, he could fit a rucksack's worth of stuff in there. Which could be a lotta money. Or it could be a very heavy rock.
⑵ His hands are quick, the sort of gift for sleight that would make any kleptomaniac jealous. Rings off fingers, cloaks around shoulders, swords off belts, food out of mouths. With such a winning smile (his fleshless mouth is set to a perpetual grimace) and a handsome face (half of which is straight-up on fire), many fall for his charms and go away without even noticing just how much he had lifted off of them in passing.
⑇⑉What You Don’t ⑉⑈
What the fuck was this???
Who the hell were these four? Where were his guards? Christ, why are they in his house to begin with? What the fuck did he even d-
Oh, ok, fucking pack of rabid vigilantes barking up the wrong tree? Ugh, that's why adventurers always get such shit rep. Didn't they realize how much shit the nation would be in if they offed him here? What, were they going to fund the orphanages and the hospitals? Give work to all the vagrants that 'proper' merchants wouldn't even spit in the direction of? Fine, fuck it! If they wanted a fight, then he'd sh-
Oh god where did his hand go? Shit shit shit, is that a Meteor falling from outside his window? Gods above, what even is a "VNiodfnds WIoneifndosnd"?
This...this was bullshit!
...
And by the time the sun rose over the smouldering ruins of a once-glorious estate, the people were free from the dark and terrible reign of ██████████ the Gourmand.
"Fuck, I don't know, 30, give or take 10 years?" "Wait, seriously? Well, shit, guess I just gotta unzip then." "Kehehe, what, do I look less human than some of the other fucks around here?"
A foul-mouthed criminal, always looking out for number one but willing to play longer cons whenever necessary. For people like him, after all, a desperate life in the wild and an isolated world of solitary individuals is the worst situation to be in. The fuck's he gonna do if there's nothing to take, after all? Rub two sticks together like a monkey and hope things work out?
⑇⑉What You Remember⑉⑈
Couldn't cut it out as an honest one after all. Teach told him that he could've been a craftsman or something. Smart head on his shoulders and quick fingers on his arms or something like that, but c'mon. That was a waste. Apprenticing for ten years to a miserable bastard that never made enough to retire, only to end up bent over like a bitch over the table while some fat cunt rails you (verbally) for not making the quota on whatever dingle-doodle he was supposed to sell at a 500% markup? His smart head told him that there were better things he could do with his hands, so why not go for what would leave a proper mark?
There was that one guy, after all, who had the right idea.
Steal from the rich, share with the poor, and whammo, you'd be the most popular guy on the block! Do that on a larger scale, start challenging shitty lords and worse kings, and kaplow, you're basically a hero of the commonfolk! Free beer on the tap, songs written in your name, and a crowd of ladies wanting to ride you for free! It was just that easy. You'd have to be an idiot not to do it.
⑴ Half his head is missing, and in its place, there is a heatless flame, a bright energy that roars like a bonfire, yet without sound or warmth. A pale, fluorescent brilliance, one that serves as an opening to another space. He can place things in there and pull things out of there. He's tested it. Apparently, he could fit a rucksack's worth of stuff in there. Which could be a lotta money. Or it could be a very heavy rock.
⑵ His hands are quick, the sort of gift for sleight that would make any kleptomaniac jealous. Rings off fingers, cloaks around shoulders, swords off belts, food out of mouths. With such a winning smile (his fleshless mouth is set to a perpetual grimace) and a handsome face (half of which is straight-up on fire), many fall for his charms and go away without even noticing just how much he had lifted off of them in passing.
⑇⑉What You Don’t ⑉⑈
What the fuck was this???
Who the hell were these four? Where were his guards? Christ, why are they in his house to begin with? What the fuck did he even d-
Oh, ok, fucking pack of rabid vigilantes barking up the wrong tree? Ugh, that's why adventurers always get such shit rep. Didn't they realize how much shit the nation would be in if they offed him here? What, were they going to fund the orphanages and the hospitals? Give work to all the vagrants that 'proper' merchants wouldn't even spit in the direction of? Fine, fuck it! If they wanted a fight, then he'd sh-
Oh god where did his hand go? Shit shit shit, is that a Meteor falling from outside his window? Gods above, what even is a "VNiodfnds WIoneifndosnd"?
This...this was bullshit!
...
And by the time the sun rose over the smoulder ruins of a once-glorious estate, the people were free from the dark and terrible reign of ██████████ the Gourmand.
Rune_Alchemist
Kronshi
canaryrose
Remram
ErosSense
Redacted
TokyoPewPew
Nani
Festive
Xaltwind
