Sir Lurksalot — Roleplayer Guild

@Lunarlors34@ZekariVoblis@Soragoku

"As much as I hate to invoke any horror movie cliches, I think we should split up. We'll be able to cover more ground that way. On top of that, what's the maid's name? We can yell that out to help get her attention better.

"Splitting up? Like scooby doo and the gang?"

Duncan quirked a brow at the redhead's reference; he'd suspected the blond guy of being from his neck of the hypothetical inter-dimensional woods, but in all honesty, he'd kinda figured the girl with a honest-to-god wizard's staff dressed in medieval fantasy-land attire would be... y'know, from medieval fantasy-land.

And then she went on to patch 'Mr. Ease' up (whose name, admittedly, made him do a double-take as it sounded like that of someone who makes soundtracks for softcore porn-flicks for a living) with a touch of her hand and a single word, before handing out magical beetles like Halloween candy. 

'Well, that would've been useful a while ago...' MacAiden thought as he watched Ease's wound knit itself shut at the mage's touch, his mind drifting back to the slums.

Where his friend was laying on the ground, dying.

Where a young girl, terrified and in agony, begged him for help.

Where he crawled along the cold ground on the stumps where his hands used to be, scorched and mutilated, the sound of what remained of his own vocal chords trying to scream echoing in his head as the crushing helplessness of his situation slowly rose from the pit of his stomach and left him lying on an empty street, begging for death.

*Squeak...?*

And suddenly, Duncan was back, just now noticing that one of the spectral beetles the mage-lass had summoned had made it's way onto his shoulder and had apparently been trying to get his attention for some time now. 

And how tightly his fists were clenched. 

And how his heart thundered away in his chest. 

"Alright. You and me are gonna go this way. They seem to have their ways taken care of. Plus...we gotta talk about stuff."

The red-clad man only barely registered Ease's words as he slowly removed his hat and wiped the sweat he only now realized was coming off his brow on his sleeve, his eyes betraying the lingering emotion his stiff upper-lip would not. 

"Come on!"

"Right... Right." Duncan replied, his features quickly reverting back to their usual disciplined calm as he put his hat back on and opened his breast pocket, motioning to the roughly junebug-sized beetle to get inside (which stared at him for a moment longer, before acquiescing and crawling inside with another audible 'Squeak!') before running to catch up with the other man.

"Duncan MacAiden." he introduced himself as he got close and slowed to match Ease's pace "...And before you ask, the stupid get-up is because I work for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and my bosses have a weird obsession with red jackets and striped pants."

The Mountie's eyes briefly flicked back down to his breast pocket, where the beetle within let off another 'Squeak!' as it began... almost nuzzling against his chest through the fabric, which was either adorable or mildly unsettling, he couldn't decide which but it was probably both.

"Well, now that that's outta the way, first question: Where the fuck am I and why is everything fucked?"
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