Rural

Between the bustling cities and the vast wilderness, there are the rural areas of this planet - countrysides and towns of varying size and sparity. It's a lovely place if you want to move away from the hectic city life and the dull wilderness.

The Traditional Welcome Party of Crogbank

After a long while of evading the patrols of the MCCP and their military goons, Drake and Daikiem begin to experience far less hazards on their journey away from the city. After a while, it looks like they are entering a more humid, bog like region, with lots of thick foliage and swamplands. A narrow dirt path lies before them into the deep undergrowth.

"<Oh ain't this just lovely, I'm sure I could rest on the moss if I get tired enough.>" Sarcasm drips from Drake's voice as Daikeim is just about ready to smack Drake upside the head until he notices faint lights amidst the foliage.

"<Looks like we've made it to a town... And don't outright attack someone unless attacked, understand?>" Daikeim steps forward, keeping his wits with him. Drake rolls his eyes but also begins scanning the area for any activity.

They quickly pick up the faint sounds of men shouting, as well as the roaring of some manner of large creature. Once curiosity overwhelms their common sense, they cautiously get closer, soon hearing:

"O' me bloody arse! Someone grab me a harpoon! This wee bugger ain't gonna bugger off on his own!" A rather angry male's voice snarls in the distance.

A man's scream rings out among the foliage.

"...Or ye can bloody piss off and get eaten along with the freakn' harpoon ya idiot!"

The sound of waves crashing into a nearby dock is heard, with several men flying into the air, screaming in panic, only for what looks like a giant snake's head to bite the lower torso of one of the men, the beast whips them back out of sight with a rapid swish of its head.

The two see the snake, speechless. However, Daikeim looks at Drake who has an animalistic smile. "<Oh, this absolutely fucking counts, doesn't it.>"

Daikeim looks around, mainly at the injuried men. "<Yes, it does. You want to deal with the cre-->" He can't even finish his sentence before the mercenary is gone from his sights.

As the beast continues its rampage, a piece of broken wood, resembling a shape of a makeshift spear pricks into the side of it. "<That better have got it's attention...>"

The beast, a massive moss and slime covered snake towering from the rather boggy lake the town surrounds, immediately notices and lets out a large shriek, as it begins to spew green tinted water at Drake's general vicinity. Meanwhile, a short but heavily built man with dark red hair and a shaggy beard barks orders at a bunch of lackies, who are desperately trying to get several large harpoons into position on ballistiae. 

As the tainted water gets close, Drake's smirk widens as from his hands - large unstable orbs of embers grow and are thrown to counter the wave of water. The flames and liquid collide, canceling each other out as Drake takes this moment to leap from one tree to the next. "<Alright time to bleed you the fuck out!>" He leaps towards the snake, firearm and knife in hand.

The snake hisses directly at him, and Drake gets a direct hit from its horrid breath, as though he was smelling rotten flesh and feces mixed together with a bit of rotten eggs.

The pungent smell causes Drake to flinch, missing his perfect hit. However he does quickly turn and stick his knife into the serpent, near the gills. "<DROP YOU PUTRID BASTARD! DROP!>" Drake begins unloading his firearm into the beast, all while cursing.

Meanwhile Daikeim approaches some of the men, looking at the serpent. "I have a feeling this is either something that happens often or not at all... How can I help?"

"The flimsy-skinned varmit is only one of many of these blasted humpdiggers that spawn every bloody year." The red haired man says grouchily before looking at Drake.

"He ain't a vampire is e'? I'd haveta stuff his corpse full of garlic and put em' on a stake. Fuckn' shitty Twilight bitches."

Meanwhile the serpent, not at all pleased by the embedding of a steel knife in its flesh, wildly flails its body, slamming its head and upper body into a nearby building with full force.

Daikeim looks at the man. "...Vampire? Whatever that is, no, he isn't."

While Daikeim is chatting to the men, Drake gets thrown through a window of the building, glass embedded in his skin. "<Oh I'm going to skin it...>" He uses the knife to scribble arcane circles into the floor of the building, soon there is a faint glow and the sound of electricity.

Suddenly lightning arcs from the building and throughout the water, reaching the serpent and speeding upwards.

"Old' a sec'." The man then turns to the scrambling men. "Quit your pussylivered whining and SHOOT IT YA PANSIES!" He roars, and the men straighten up.

"Ahh, much better. Vampire, blood sucking maggots that look like people see, typically immortal unless ya got some way of butchering em' with magic tools. Contagious too, so you gotta get every one." He grunts.

The men finally get their harpoons lined up, and the harpoons sink into the snake's body and pull it into the water, combined with the electricity, there is much howling and screeching, until finally the creature's carcass sinks into the river bottom.

"Uggh, filthy leviathans. Such a pain in the ass. Well, it's dead now. Well bois, welcome to Crogbank. Just in time for the coincidental traditional welcoming party." He spits into the water in the direction of the sunken leviathan.

He wheels his head back toward Daikeim. "So who are ye punts? I've not seen likes of you here before, clearly Myths at the least, either that or kids gone goth lately."

Drake hops off of the leviathan's head and next to Daikeim, wiping blood off of him. "<That lightning would've been more focused but y'know, the building was crumbling...>."

"For the sake of simplicity, we're not human. Take that as you will, and I'm Daikeim." Daikeim offers a handshake.

"The name's Drake Ryunexo, mercenary for hire." He looks over at the harpoon, smirking. "For stuff like that, you're gonna need bigger weapons."

The man eyes Drake and the almost gel like blood stuck to him. "...Boys, get it." Without a word, a pair of men run off, and come back with buckets of water, and without warning, splash Drake from head to toe, the gel bursts and releases a green fog with a hiss, leaving behind a pungent odor.

"Acid blood, tame than most, but cha don't want it lingerin'. You can thank me later. Name's Boyd. I run things here, and I don't take kindly to funny buisness. I like harpooning things that annoy me. Why, we harpooned a sissy whiner who thought a grand a month was too little for his tastes. Think dat leviathan had its way with him." He gestures to a distant tree with a skeleton stuck to it via a large harpoon.

He rolls his shoulder, poping it. "Anyways, despite the damage, we're not a month off schedule cause of ya, so I'm gonna see that you all get what you deserve. Come with me, aye?" Boyd starts shuffling off into the mostly wooden, elevated town.

"Sounds like a plan, thank you... And Drake thanks you as well." Daikeim looks at the soaked mercenary, Drake just sighs and the water begins to steam and evaporate off of him. He looks at Boyd and nods, the two begin following behind him.

As they walk, various people start emerging, some obviously builders, others clearly have shady things going on, but nothing breaks out into any sort of violence, though occasional bickering can be heard.

"I take it you kids are hidin' if you have taken to wanderin' these parts. Got the MCCP bastards in a tizzy or somethin'?"

"Yup. Certainly bastards alright, 'specially that Jonas one..." Drake growls, storing his knife and firearm in his HSC. "Hunted us to the city we were in and we had no other choice."

"Yeah, sorry if we bring any unwanted attention." Responds Daikeim, his hand scratching the back of his head.

"MCCP are dumbasses. Well funded, complete, dumbasses." Boyd retorts. "They couldn't find their own butthole to scratch even if it were killin' em."

He heads into a medium sized building on the shore and heads toward a door in the right hand side of the corner of the first room, opening it reveals a staircase which he slowly heads down. They follow him until he reaches a door downstairs leading into what looks to be a small office of sorts, with a heavily locked door immediately behind his desk. He sits down in his chair and gestures the two to sit in the seats on the other side in front of him.

"So, what's your preferred payment? You like shiny new toys or are you more interested in cold cash?"

"I think the one most used is... Credits, right?" Drake asks, his HSC shapeshifting into a screen of sorts.

"Mmm. Remember when we actually used currency, not digital crap. The feeling of real money in your fingers... ...anyway, you got your credit card or whatever? Can't pay you credits unless you got it."

The mercenary rolls his eyes and he taps the screen a few times, until what looks like a transaction interface fades into view. The man can't read anything, but he notices some glyphs that resemble zeroes. The HSC then morphs a small area of the UI to a slot, with a numberpad of sorts next to it. "Luckily, the currency seems universal... Just put your card in the gap and punch in the amount." Drake instructs.

"Sweet Uranus' butttocks, what is that? I've never seen the like. I reckon not even the MCCP farts have stuff like this. I know many clients who'd kill to have something like that." He inserts his card and punches something in, quickly taking it back out once he's done. When Drake reads the payout, it's close to at least a thousand credits.

"You saved me arse a good couple months of extra damage control, repairing this place ain't easy. Plus those buggers are an annual problem, extra work dealt with early. You'll find I do my best to pay well according to the deed."

"The HSC - Otherwise known as a Holographic Storage Cube, it was some prototype tech I was able to get my hands on during one of my earlier missions." His eyes and smile lights up when he sees the payment. "Hey, I'll usually be free to deal with any other issues if you got enough." Drake says in a slight teasing tongue.

"Can I ask why you're out here though, it seems a bit hazardous..." Questions Daikeim.

"I'm running a trade, one which most governments aren't too keen on. Arms, drugs, whatever floats, goes in the boat. Swamps make a good hidey hole, and most folk don't like getting their boots dirty. Leviathans are a seasonal pain in my rumpus, but you can't have everything you want in a dream location can ye. People who are tired of puttn' up with the shitpots of society come here to make a livin', though it's with no guarantee, it sure beats being browbeaten by all the rules and shit."

Boyd leans back in his chair. "If yer that bored, I gots some requests from the townsfolk, they put in the bounty, I get a percent, and whoever does the job gets the majority commission. If you afraid of getting ya hands dirty though, I'd find somewhere else ta ask, cause not everyone here is going to ask you to pull weeds, if ya get me drift."

"Lay 'em on me." Drake requests, the screen on his HSC now shifting to what looks like a ledger of previous bounties and jobs.

Innocent or Guilty?

Boyd taps his desk, whose glass cover turns on, revealing a board of jobs. Currently most are mundane, but one manages to catch his eye.

"I think my girl is a myth, want proof and if so, need the bitch chopped up and tossed in the bog. Won't have any freaking half breed kids on my watch. 750 credit reward."

The HSC examines the jobs and transfers it to itself, once more in Drake's native language. "Huh... Well, morbid but a job is a job. Boyd, know what the woman looks like?"

Boyd taps the bounty, and a separate screen comes up. "You gotta phone? If not, I can give you the man's address. She lives with him, from what I understand. Either way, he'll give you more details."

Drake smiles. "I'll tell you now, this cube basically handles communication, storage, utility... Think of it as an all-in-one device, but yeah for now an address will be fine."

Boyd then gives him the phone number of the man.

The number gets logged onto the HSC and compresses back into a small cube, Drake stands and begins to call the number. Quietly waving towards the two as he leaves the room.

It doesn't take long for an obviously irritable man to pick up. "Hello? Who is this?" They bark, Drake gets the feeling that the guy isn't one for being held up.

"Name's Drake, got hold of your offer. Speak up." He retorts.

"Is that right? Well, come on over, I'll walk you through things. Outside, though. Don't want to have eavesdropers." The man tells Drake his address and soon hangs up.

The HSC closes and hides away in Drake's jacket, he rolls his eyes slightly. "<Seems friendly...>" Soon, the man notices the white haired alien casually stroll over to him.

The man seems to be in his twenties but certainly at home in the swamp. He has worn blue jeans and a brown shirt, a straw hat shades his head from the hot sun where it does poke through the foliage. He has a red stubble and shaggy hair. He eyes Drake with dark brown eyes for a moment.

"Name's Harvey. I have a bit of a situation, you see. I've been hearing strange noises in my girlfriend's room lately. Stuff like scratchn. Thought it was mice. Then I heard banging one night, knocked on the door to reprimand her cause I was trying to sleep, and I heard a dark, animal growl. Naturally, I got damn freaked out, so I grabbed my shotgun. Only thing I find when I get in there is my girl cowering under the bed, looking at me like I'm some sorta ghost.

What kinda girlfriend gives you that kinda look unless something's up? Now, don't get me wrong, I don't hate no stupid myth, but ya know what I don't like like? Filthy freakn' liars. If she's lyin to me about who she is, and she's a Myth, well, you know what I want."

"Right, so before I ask what I'd need from you. A few things like is there anything you can relate the growl to, if said growl matches with any wildlife around here, how come it's only happening lately and not a while before... That sorta stuff, oh, and I'm not judging - But I find it odd how you two don't share a room, is there a reason behind that?" Drake notes to himself, his red eyes looking past the customer and to the house.

"She's shy, she says. I'm not going to force her past her comfort zone. Men don't treat their girls right? They disgust me. It's pigheaded to make girls do things they don't wanna do. That's what I tell myself. Does it suck for me? Yeah, got the rest of my life to reap the end result though." He sighs.

"It was like a cat. But... ...off. It... how do I describe it? It's like a human, with human lungs, but the voice of a feral mountain lion. But thing is, we don't got any big things out here. We got wild dogs, sure, but definately no cats. It creeped me out. Like, whatever it was, knew I was there, and it wanted ta kill me. Real bad. As for why it's happening now? I don't have any clue. I've seen large cat like tracks for about a week before the noises, but I didn't think too much about it til now. Thought I was crazy. Oh, I do have this."

Harvey pulls out his phone and shows Drake a picture of very long, vicious looking claw marks on the inside of the girlfriend's room's door. 

"You see that? If whatever was in there clawed me or you, it would go all the way to the bone."

He pays close attention to the marks, then looks at Harvey. "So, a simple 'is she a Myth or not' thing... Shouldn't be that hard, is she in the house?"

"Nah, had her go out back for a bit. Thought you might want to look about."

"Smart thinking, I won't take long..." He brushes past Harvey and enters the house, while he doesn't take note of much right off the bat. Drake makes his way to the girlfriend's room, opening the door to examine what's inside.

The room at first glance seems tidy and in order, with the bedding aside from where the girlfriend slipped out of bed in the morning tidy, there are two windows, a few dressers, and a small closet. She seems to have a few jewelry boxes.

Nonchalantly Drake holds up his HSC and it turns into a screen once more. "Certainly takes pride in her cleanliness." He approaches the closet and opens its doors.

In the closet he finds a number of outfits, some books, and various other possessions. Tucked away in the corner behind a box of shoes is a small trashcan.

He closely examines the books, the pockets of the outfits, opens the boxes of shoes to see what's inside. Finally he takes out the trashcan and places it down, his eyes occasionally glancing at it while looking at the rest of the closets contents.

The books themselves are varied in topics but not legible to him, the pockets seem empty, but he only finds anything once he inspects the trashcan. Inside are what appear to be torn clothes, as though torn by claws. They appeared to be hidden under wads of paper.

"If ithis was something done by a beast, then why would she hide it from him?" Drake mumbles to himself, his hands sifting through the paper to get hold of some of the shredded clothes. His attention quickly turns to the windows. "If it's an animal, it would've come through here..."

Sure enough, he finds traces of claw marks and black fur on the windowsill closest to her bed. The same window has a draft, and he can tell that something powerful has bent the bottom up so it can push it open. He notices that black fur is on the floor as well.

After looking at the fur and more of the claw marks, Drake calls out to Harvery. "Hey! See if there's any claw marks or paw prints outside of her window!"

"Oh aye, plenty headn' off into the woods!" He hears from the front.

"In which direction are they heading! Towards or away from the house!"

"Both! Tracks coming from the woods, and then back into the woods!"

Drake begins thinking quietly, he tidies up the room and exits. Heading downstairs to meet with Harvey, his expression is slightly confused but confident. "So, right now I need to ask if the incidents happen in a pattern or are they random?"

"Hmm... ...hang on... it never happens during the new moon, when it's darkest. Only when there is moonlight. ...Sonovabitch... we could be dealing with a werecreature. ...What's your findings so far?"

"Nothing much, expected as much when I entered: Claw marks, torn clothes hidden under some paper, black fur and a demolished window... Is there anything that repels a werecreature, anything odourless to us but to them would be good to get our hands on."

"That really depends on the critter. Plus, the best deterrents are usually moonsilver or powerful magic. Usually to kill them. If it's not feral, you could trap it. Regardless... ...what's your thoughts on a plan to find out for sure what's going on?"

Drake ponders for a moment, then looking down at the prints heading to the forest then to the house. "I'll lay down two traps, one in her room and one where ever those prints end, if the beast gets caught in one then I'll wait until day with it to see if it transforms back. If it is your girlfriend, then I'll deal with her." While he answer seems confident, he gives Harvey a certain... Look. "Listen, if this IS your partner, are you positive you want me to end her?"

"I don't see how you would catch a person. We're not like animals, surely she'd feel something off? Why not just stake out her room? And to answer your question, I can't trust someone who can't trust me. Let alone a liar. If she didn't lie, I got nothing to worry about. I just need to know."

Drake nods. "Yeah, I understand. And because of two reasons, one: I don't exactly feel comfortable peeking in on someone's girlfriend, second of all. If it isn't her, then it's something from the woods, I'd rather stake that area out than the room... What are the chances of the same thing happening tonight?"

"If it's a werebeast, unquestionably. It's a full moon. Whatever you gotta do, get it done. It's almost supper."

And with that, Drake nods once more and enters the house. "Time to set up..." With a moment or two going by, Drake has his spellbook out and is using a translucent marker to inscribe a few arcane circles within the girlfriends room. Soon after, he leaves the house and heads for the woods, spellbook folded up underneath his arm.

By the time he finishes his work, Drake gets called by Harvey. "Supper is ready! If you aren't here by the time we clean up, you go hungry!"

The only response Harvey gets is a raised eyebrow and a quick line. "Maybe save whatever meat, I'll be back soon." As Drake begins to wander into the woods, following the tracks, the sun slowly sets. Orange rays of light pierce past the trees, he looks down into his book - flipping through the pages until he's satisfied with here he wants to set up. With heating up his fingers to scorching levels, his arcane circles begin to take shape around the woods, hidden out of sight.

The mercenary occasionally looks back at the way he came, using the tracks as a direction point. But he mostly begins to sit against a tree, waiting...

As things slowly begin to grow dark, Drake hears many different sounds, the noises of all of the resident wildlife, including a very low buzzing, insectoid in nature, the sharpness of which is unquestionably maddening.

"I swear I'm going to burn down this forest..." Drake growls, his expression can be simply described as pissed. While waiting for the beast, he takes stones and chucks them at any insects making the maddening buzz.

Thankfully as night comes, the insects settle down, though several swarming insects take to infuriatingly swarming his face, making high pitched buzzing noises that make him flinch when they fly almost into his ear.

After a moment, his eye twitches and he lets out a puff of flames, instantly cooking them as he get close. "Where is that fucking Myth."

Just as he is about to lose his patience, he can detect one of the traps has been sprung in the forest.

His head turns immediately towards the direction of the trap, as he rushes towards it. He notices that the trap went without issue, the arcane circle lighting up underneath, forming a transparent cube around whatever its captured.

Inside the trap is a large rabbit, dead. He is about to get angry, he realizes a few things: the rabbit has a large series of bite marks on its chest, in the shape of feline teeth, a nearby tree has a snapped tree limb with claws raking the side, and finally, perhaps the most distressing: there are fresh tracks exactly like the ones from earlier, only immediately fresh. This is verified when a loud feline roar in the direction of the house is heard, followed by glass shattering and a female's scream of terror.

"There we go..." Drake's eyes light up and a smirk grows on his face as he sets off towards the house, his firearm in hand. He approaches the house and sees the opening in the window, the same one the beast made beforehand, Drake jumps upwards through the opening. Instantly taking aim at whatever is in there.

Inside, pinned to the bed, is a red haired woman whose clothes are being torn off by the vicious claws of the huge male feline humanoid on top of her and very much making an effort to prevent her from struggling. When Drake bursts into the room, the werecat bites into her shoulder, causing her to howl in anguish, before beginning to bolt out the other window, not before getting shot in the eye, which causes it to stumble on its way out and land awkwardly, before beginning to sprint for cover, interrupted by Harvey, who shouts countless expletives at the creature in rage.

"Your bounty is updated! Kill the shit out of that fucker, now!" He fires his shotgun, which while missing, causes it to keep it from running away in time for Drake to pursue it.

"I'm getting her to the hospital to treat that bastard's damned bite! Meet me there when you're done!" Without another word, he grabs his now passed out girlfriend and runs toward the town, causing the werecat to snarl angrily.

"GOT IT!" Drake turns towards the werecat and fires a few shots at it, as it makes its getaway - The mercenary begins to give chase, still emptying his firearms clip. "JUST KEEL OVER ALREADY!"

As it runs, two shots hit it in the shoulder, which causes it to wheel around, eyes now glowing red in rage, and it lets out a fierce feline roar and with incredible speed, begins to charge, dirt flying into the air as its paws hit the ground with force, before jumping to tackle him, its claws extended, prepared to maul once it gets him.

Instead of evading, Drake lets out a dark growl and sneers. Pushing himself off of the windowsill, he jumps towards the werecat and locks up with it. Trading slashes and blows.

The creature's large, deadly claws cause serious damage as they impact, the creature rakes down from his shoulders to around his elbow, also biting at his face.

Drake opens his mouth and a torrent of flames collide with the werecat the firearm in his hand is replaced with a knife and he thrusts into the beast's ribcage. As the two fall to the ground, Drake manages to get above and stomp down as they both land, using the creature as a landing pad of sorts.

The werecat's blood trickles to the ground, but it still determinedly attempts to maul him, its bloodloss only partially slowing it down.

"Heh... Come on fucker, you're not the worst I've faced." Drake gives off another growl as his own blood drips to the floor, his ember eyes seemingly glowing as he circles the beast - Ready for any attack.

It lunges forward to tear into his legs.

As it dives towards Drake, he sidesteps and slides underneath it, yanking out the knife before kicking the creature over.

It begins rolling over to try to get back on its feet.

Taking this moment, Drake throws the knife into the werecat's eye before beginning to scorch it with flames. "JUST TURN TO FUCKING ASH ALREADY!"

The werecat initally struggles but begins to stumble weaker and weaker.

Just to make sure that he's secured his skill, the mercenary steps close to the werecat and raises his foot. Aiming for the throat and with one audible crunch, Drake stamps down onto the neck.

Remembering what Harvey said, cuts its head off, and then runs to the hospital. By the time that he gets there, when he arrives, from the hallway heading into the medical emergency ward, he can hear loud female screams that turns feline at the end of each scream, and each scream becomes more and more feline after the other. Harvey is quietly lean against a wall, looking haunted.

"You got him then," He says, facial expression blank but his voice carries the full weight of his horror and grief.

"The doctors don't have a cure for moon disease, not from werecats. Judging from what they could gather, he was a feral. She won't be herself when the moon rises, at least until the next new moon. If she doesn't stay feral, we have a chance, but if she got the thirst for the blood of people..." His voice trails off.

"I need you to promise me that if I lose her, I want you to end her suffering. I... I don't have the heart to do that to her. Even if she wouldn't be there to feel it... ... I can't."

Upon hearing the news, Drake gives an acknowledging nod but looks at Harvery in a more deadpan expression. "Yeah, I could do that. But I'll expect a bonus." He looks at the werecat head that he's holding in his hand then down the hallway, listening in on the screams. "I have a feeling she'll be fine, when all else matters - I will be around town for a few days so you can at least get to me when I'm not busy.

But, I would recommend fortifying her room and swap out your firearm for something that puts them to sleep just in case... And besides, nothing wrong with being a bit feral." Drake flashes him a grin, Harvey can see a sharp looking fang.

"After what you did tonight a bonus is more than acceptable. Fact is I have some aged wines that I have meant to have a go at. You're welcome to come and relax once she is stable." He says unphased.

He opens up his HSC and stretches it large enough that it encases the werecat's head, he then taps on the side of the cube and it shrinks - the head now nowhere to be found. "That sounds great, I'll let you know when I'm free."

"Her condition will be stable by the afternoon. Until then I will be here until I can move her back home. You're free to do as you wish."

"Before I go, I want my payment."

"Aye. Need the interface for payment first."

Drake stretches out his HSC, once more returning to the transaction screen that Boyd was introduced to. "If you have a card, put it in the slot and do what you need to."

Harvey punches in a number after inserting a card, the payment totals seven hundred fifty. Once he does that, Drake compresses the HSC back into a cube and stores it into his jacket, torn with claw marks. "Y'know anyone who can repair this?"

"Your clothes? Hmm, Gran' Yule might be willing to do that, but'cha better not disrespect her. The old woman is terrifying when crossed."

"I'll take my chances." Drake opens the doors and exits the building, he begins to search for the old lady, blood from the attack still dripping and drenching his clothes.

Upon asking around, Drake is eventually pointed in the direction of a humble looking hut on the outskirts of the main town.

He approaches the hut and eyes it down. "Would it kill them to bring this hut closer to everyone else?" Drake reaches for the handle and slowly opens the door. "Hey, someone here named Gran Yule?" He calls out. "Is someone named, 'Have you heard of knocking' living in that empty bucket you call a head? Yes yes, I'm here. Give me a moment, you startled me and made me drop my arc welder." He hears mumbling about disrespectful kids for a few minutes, until a very short woman, also very old and using a cane, begins hobbling into the room, the expression she has is more than a little cranky, in fact that's underselling the look entirely as she looks upon her strange visitor.

"Your cat take a disliking to you pulling his tail or something?" She asks curtly, surveying the damage.

"<So short...>" Drake looks down at the woman, blinking. "Assuming that the werecat is its pissed off relative, sure. I was told you can repair my clothes." He's leaving a small puddle of blood around his feet...

She looks down at the puddle, then back at him, and then abruptly leaps up into the air and smacks his face with her cane, and with a faint breeze, he realizes he is now clothes less, and has been shoved into a closet.

"There's a exit in there to the back. Jump in the pond and get that crap off you." She barks. "I've got work to do."

Drake quickly looks behind him as the closet doors shut, almost bewildered yet very annoyed about the abruptness of it all. "I swear I'm gonna hit that old hag..." He mumbles to himself as he continues walking, eventually making it to the pond.

"Get in before the neighbors see you!" He hears Yule's muffled yell from in the house.

He rolls his eyes and slowly steps into the pond, until the water comes up to his shoulders. He just stands there, occasionally looking around. "<How long is this going to take...>"

After a few hours, he sees Yule walking out with a towel and his clothes, surprisingly mended to a degree he cannot tell if it had ever been damaged.

”Dry off and come in and warm up. Dinner is almost ready. Mashed Potatoes, Corn, and Pork. You can take it or leave it.” She says and deposits the clothes and towels on a close by tree branch.

She sees Drake wading around in the water, the expression on his face close to death until he finally hears the news. "Oh finally..." He slowly walks out of the water and just looks at the towel, slightly confused. The water on Drake starts to evapourate as steam fills the air enough to cloud himself. A hand reaches out for his clothes and soon after, he's fully dressed. "Huh, you did a good job... And sure, I'll take something to eat."

To Mend and Rend

Yule looks him over briefly, before turning and going inside. When she goes in there is a brief flash of red light, and when he goes in, a large assortment of cooking utensils are being heated on a stove with... red flames.

For a brief moment he thinks he sees small stubby horns on her forehead and black eyes, but it’s gone just as quick from Yule’s appearance. She looks at him for a moment and then points to a cushion on the floor.

”Have a seat. It’ll take a bit, so either we can talk or listen to the radio.” She says, a tiny bit less angsty and a bit more like how a strict, albeit fair grandmother might sound.

He eyes the cooking for a moment, then the fire but shrugs it off anyways. "You don't have something more comfortable?" He asks as he sits down on the cushion, leaning his back against the wall.

”I am a small old woman. Tall chairs don’t agree with me. Plus it’s custom where I came from. Now, how would you rather spend the time? The pork will take the longest to cook.” She says seating herself nearby on another cushion.

"Sure, let's use the... Radio..." Drake says slowly, almost unsure of how to say it. The smell of the food whiffs around and he catches up on it, grinning. "Can't wait."

She turns it on, and she begins turning a knob as various stations either with music or talking briefly spurt on and off. She frowns at first, nothing catching her interest, and has stopped changing channels when an urgent voice breaks through the monotony.

”This is a urgent alert from the Global Crisis Network, it has recently been confirmed that Japanese Military vessels are rapidly approaching Russian Naval Space. We’ve not seen this level of aggressive movement since the Russian-Japanese Skirmishes over the North Isles. We have no visuals yet but our reporting team is scrambling to bring you video footage of the situation. Our radio listeners may want to tune in to our televised broadcast in a few short moments...” A man’s voice says frantically.

"That sounds interesting." Drake raises an eyebrow, looking at Yule. "Guess everywhere has their wars, right? So, you got a way to watch this instead of listening?"

She shuts off the radio and waddles over to instead a small tv and turns it on, grimly tuning it to the GCN channel, where helicopter footage is shown over a cold sea, with what looks like destroyer class ships heading out to sea, while off in the distance, there are faint, but rapidly approaching ships in the extreme distance, that both the helicopters and the destroyers seem to be rushing to intercept.

"The Japanese. They don't follow the conventions of most modern countries. They instead embraced myth kind and fostered them. In turn, they learned the secrets of magic, removing the need for most technology in their lives..." Yule intones, as the still distant ships come closer, and Drake can see they are in fact, large wooden warships, with Japanese flags hoisted high.

"This isn't normal behavior from them. Normally if they did approach, it wouldn't be this close to Russia's border, and they wouldn't be approaching this quickly. This could get ugly quickly." Yule's eyes are narrowed.

"So, basically they're attacking." Drake asks, looking at the wooden ships with an odd expression. "Still, magic can't do everything that technology can do... Plus, any magic nullification and they're done." He leans forward a bit, trying to see a bit more of the television.

"..." Yule only watches as the Japanese continue to approach, and then abruptly begin slowly down, turning to the side, parallel to the Russian ships. Drake can now see that the lead ship is far bigger than the rest. This main ship's mast at the very top starts flashing a particular color, a light gold, repeatedly. The Russian ships seem to be coming to an abrupt stop as they see this.

"The Japanese seem to be issuing their signal that... ...an Imperial Representative is on board?! ...Yes, according to the armistice, the golden signal is a sign the Japanese Emperor is either on the way or has sent his Speaker to deliver a message without further delay. As you can see, the Russian's have spotted this detail and their vessels are halting their approach. To attack an Imperial Vessel is tantamount to total war against the Japanese State."

With both sides aware of the situation, the Lead vessel appears to be continuing its push toward Russian shores.

"We have no idea if the Emperor or the Speaker is aboard that vessel at this time, but regardless of who, the next question we must ask, considering the speed in which they were arriving, is what is the message Japan wishes to give the United Earth Initiative at a time like this? The UEI Summit of Nations is in a few months, this move ahead of time may mean something important."

With the deescalation of the situation, the helicopter fleet keeps a distance but surveys, while the commentators buzz with speculation what an Imperial visit means for the United Earth Initiative.

"United Earth Initiative?" Drake looks over at Yule, expecting an answer.

"The world government... they're the ones paying the MCCP's checks." Yule says shortly. After some time, the Russian - Japanese crisis seems to be resolved, with an announcement from the Japanese ambassador shocking many in the nation.

"I didn't figure the Japanese would be forgiving of the UEI's pushy attitude for much longer." She gets up and gets their food put on the table.

"Eat up. I imagine Boyd will be coming round to talk with you soon." She grunts, having a seat and beginning to eat.

He joins her at the table, looking back at the television then at his food. Grabbing a fork, he digs in. "Hm, not bad - Food nearly isn't as bad as I expected." Drake grins but continues eating.

They eat for a while, but a heavy fist pounds on the door.

"Oi, Snow hair! Got somethin' to talk to ya bout! Don't keep me waitn'!" Boyd's heavy footsteps trail off a minute later.

Drake just sighs. "He could've just stayed at the door for a minute." He pushes his dish forward, indicating that he's finished his meal. "Thanks for the food but it seems I'm wanted." After approaching the door, he looks down at his clothes and smirks, tugging on it to test how well a job Yule has done. Afterwards he exits out of the hut, keeping an eye out for Boyd.

He spots him further down the road, leaning against a large tree, looking in his direction.

As he walks up to Boyd he begins to talk. "Alright, what is it?"

"Lot's o' things. That's why we're takn' a bit a walk see? Now follow me." Boyd shifts his weight off the tree and begins lumbering along the road deeper in the forest.

"This world ain't a vacation spa, ya see... there's not exactly a place for ye Myths and... whatever ya bois are. I'm sure da MCCP bastards made that bundantly clear, aye? What's ye plan exactly fer livin' out ye days here? Eventually ya'll are gonna get caught. Then what?" Boyd takes a walking stick and whacks some plants down out of his way.

"We make it hard for them to keep us." He simply responds, looking around as he walks besides Boyd. "In all seriousness, I don't doubt that we'll be targeted and attacked but Daikeim and I can certainly hold our own. But for now, it's mostly just drift from place to place and earn enough to survive."

"Hmm... well, the Agencies grow more crafty every day. I'd consider making your way out of here. The MCCP has a lesser control on things out here in Murica, but if ya go closer to countries that AREN'T ruddy bollucks, ye're going to learn they're not as incompetent and full of stupidity as ya would like ta believe. Ye might consider going ta Fantasy or hidin' in Japan. Both are... more difficult than they sound but... ye'd actually be able ta breathe at ye own pace." Boyd's face tightens.

"This place... it's a hellhole... what happened with Harvey's girl proves it, yeah?" Boyd looks off in the distance.

When Drake follows his gaze, he sees Harvey's cabin.

"We're dropping by for a spell, Harvey told me to fetch ya, said he had something he wanted to give ya. We won't stay long, mainly 'cause I have a job for ye. It's important, but I'll need ya to see with yer own eyes what the problem is." He walks up to Harvey's door and bangs loudly.

"Harvey, ya rat! The merc's here!"

"Even if I wanted to, I don't know where Japan or Fantasy are - at least in relation to us right now." He looks at the house for a moment, recalling what Harvey said to him after his job was finished. "Let's not hope it's already come to that."

He hears Harvey's footsteps approach the door, and it soon opens, showing his exhausted expression from a long, emotional day.

"Ah, you're here. Come on inside." From the expression on Harvey's face and how it briefly lifts on seeing Drake, he thinks there will be a silver lining.

He cuts him a faint look then walks inside. "There's not another werecat, is there?" Drake asks. Harvey seats himself at the table, beside a large cage, which houses a humanoid like cat with a long white coat, but vaguely feminine features and enough general shape to be reminescent of Harvey's girlfriend. She seems to be sleeping, but a muzzle has been placed over her face, and her limbs are restrained. Harvey glances at her for a moment, before looking at Drake.

"The docs say she's got a good chance of not going feral. The next lunar cycle will be telling if she'll go back to her old personality or if she'll become feral. Still, the outlook is... positive. Thanks for everything kid. I... got you this from my personal collection."

He presents an expensive looking wine bottle. "It's finely aged and begging to be tried. I've got another down in the cellar, but this one's supposed to be higher quality. I want you to have it. Maybe have a night with your friend to relax with it some time."

Harvey pauses for a moment. "You need any help, you come ask for ol' Harvey. Ya hear?"

Drake reaches over and grabs the bottle, after examining it, he smiles. "Wow, something this fresh for me?" He laughs. "Thanks for the gift, I'll be sure to use it all in one night." Drake teases.

”On with ya then. Come visit again. Hopefully you will see her in good health then.”

After giving an appreciative nod, Drake walks behind Boyd as the two exit the house. "So, a job?"

”Best ta just show ye.” With that, Boyd begins lumbering towards the deeper parts of the swamp.

"You know, just sitting down and explaining it wouldn't be too hard..." 

"I ain't good at no 'splainin." Boyd remarks as he continues through the bog, but with purpose. 

"This is going to be one hell of a display then..." Drake notices the bog starting to rise up Boyd's legs, he looks down at his fresh clothes and sighs before begrudgingly matching his pace. "So, this Fantasy. How do you expect we get out here and to there?"

Boyd sighs. "Mmm. That. There's two options, head up through pissin' 'merica, out into da Atlantic Territories, and to da Gate Authority. Second, we smuggle ye through our network through Mexico, through the river border, finally going out into the Atlantic Sea and pissin' ourselves from the humidity, sail up north behind da MCCP bastard's guard. Ye can imagine which one be the frockin' longer one though, can'tcha?"

"Don't sound fond of either, Boyd." Drake remarks. "But it sounds safer than whatever is happening with Japan on the... Thing."

"So that'll be two tickets on the Smuggler's Express?"

"We'll see after I've done this job that you still haven't told me about..." There's a shred of annoyance in Drake's tone that Boyd simply brushes off, responding.

"Like I said, better ta show rather than tell."

After a bit more wading through the bog Drake notices there are quite a few broken trees, snapped in various places and bent over. The ground appear to have been torn up as well and some places there are trees completely uprooted that look like they have been thrown around. Boyd motions to the destruction, "This is da job. There are several clans o' myths in the area, two of 'em have taken to fightin' the last few months, right? Now. I don't really care what's gotten them so riled up but they are making too much noise and it's threatenin' my nearby business."

The mercenary makes his way up to one of the broken trees, noticing the way that this tree wasn't cut but rather was ripped off its stump. He looks back at Boyd. "So I'm guessing you don't care how it's handled either?"

"As long as ye don't cause more chaos and bring da gov'ments and agencies breakin' down my doors, do as you see fit." Boyd motions to the area. "Sort it out and then we can talk more about them gates." He turns and wades back the way he came.

"Alright then." Drake turns around, with no other direction, he follows the broken trees.

As Drake ventures deeper into the destruction, the landscape becomes marred with large boulders and mounds of earth that seem like shockwave ripples. The marshy land has filled in most of the holes with bogwater but he has to tread carefully to not fall into any of the deep scars carved into the ground. He spots a hulking figure in the distance.

Drake murmurs to himself before wading through the water, the sloshes of bog echo out as he calls out out the figure.

The figure turns towards Drake and walks towards him, brandishing a spear in Drake's direction. Drake can make out that the figure has powerful muscles all over his body. He waves the spear and in a gravelly tone asks, "Who you with?"

"Boyd. Told me you had some internal conflicts that needed to be solved." Drake responds plainly, looking at the primitive looking weapon with a raised eyebrow. "I heard the pay was good enough so I'm not leaving until this gets sorted."

"Boyd." The figure almost spits the word before continuing, "He's sticking his nose in I see. Well no use. Those bastards won't stop until they are wiped off the face of the earth." He lowers his spear but still keeps it in hand. "I'd suggest you stay out of it all, but if money is all you are after..." He trails off as two other figures approach. "Leave. Now!"

The mercenary looks at the two approaching figures then back at the one standing before him. "Who're these? Your backup?" He asks, a hint of mockery in his tone.

Before a reply can be spoken, one of the newcomers launches a javelin to the muscled individual. Drake barely sees it fly as it sounds a loud crack as the sound barrier is broken and it buries itself into the man's shoulder. He responds by throwing his spear at the other member of the two and they sink to the floor immidiately with the spear pinning them to the floor through the neck.

"<Nice throw...> But now you have the other one and no weapon, but judging by your size, you'll be fine, won'tcha?" Drake takes a few steps back saying this, avoiding any sort of splash zone if these two decide to fight up close.

The figure simply growls and charges at the other, who in turn charges back. They collide with a loud crack and chunks of mud fly everywhere. They seemingly merge into one writhing mass of fists, feet and flesh, with occasional spurts of blood spraying out. The ground below suffers just as much as the combatants, with chunks of earth flying about and stagnant, dirtied water being splashed everywhere.

Noticing that the two are effectively just mud wrestling, Drake rolls his eyes and takes a look around. Taking note of the few standing trees and the still warm corpse with a spear sticking out of it.

He approaches the corpse and rips the spear out and holds it in his hands. Brandishing his knife, he carves runes into the side of the wood, with each rune the spear flickers with electricity. Drake smiles as he climbs up a tree and steadies himself on a thick enough branch, he reels back and launches the spear directly into the writhing mass.

The two figures are stunned enough to separate, showing the spear had hit the first figure Drake had encountered. Both turn to look at Drake up in the trees after a second to recover.

"<Oops... Well no going back now.>" Drake mutters to himself as he looks down at the two. "Look, I was hired by Boyd to get this shit sorted by any means. If you two are going to be getting in the way of it instead of helping me, I'll just drop the two of you now and sort this out a different way."

The two glare at Drake before the newcomer pipes up, "What happens between us is none of Boyd's business. Go back and tell him to stay out of our shit. We tolerate his presence in the swamps simply because he hasn't caused any issue. We'd prefer it to stay that way." The other one nods, this being the first thing they both agree on.

"As much as I'd love to leave you two to your little scuffle... I don't leave a job once I've taken it, plus with the noise you lot seem to make, it won't just be each other you'll have to deal with. But with the <scumbags> who call themselves the MCCP and I don't think you and your villages are capable of holding off armed men." Drake retorts, his arms now folded as his brow furrows, but there's a faint grin.

"So sure, I could walk away, let the MCCP come and massacre you and your families while you try and save them. Or you accept my services and, I can get your dispute sorted. Quicker than senselessly beating each other to death." Drake offers.

The figures look at each other before the first Drake met replies, "I highly doubt you can solve this. This asshole's clan are a bunch of liars and murderers."

The other figure retorts, "No, your lot are the murderers," he gestures to his fallen ally. "And lying is in your blood."

They both appear seconds away from starting to fight again.

"Liars and murderers..." Drake's head turns towards the direction of where the new figures came from, noticing a faint trail, even after the mud and destruction. His attention is focused back on the two as he sits down on the branch he stood on. "So you two are just going to keep going at it until... What, exactly."

"Until the other concedes or dies." The two seem to be in agreement on this as well, although they are starting to lose the adrenaline they started with.

"Well this is going to hit a wall quickly..." Drake sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What is this feud even about."

"You ask a lot of questions. What does it matter how it started?" The first figure seems to be getting more irritated with Drake.

The other one looks smug. "You don't even remember, do you?"

"Do you?"

"Well... uh... wasn't it 'cause you lot stole all our food?"

"No, you'd already torn down our holy monument."

"Oh yeah... No. Not a clue."

The eyebrows on the mercenary furrow, "So, a feud that's been going on long enough that you don't even know why you're supposed to hate each other..." Drake was thinking if their constant fighting might've lead to some memory loss due to concussions but shrugged it off afterwards.

"Suppose neither of you two have a village elder I can speak to directly about this, hm?"

"We have a village elder, yes. Doesn't mean you get to meet him."

"I'd take you to mine, but I don't want this snake following us."

"I already know where your village is why would I follow you to it?"

The two devolve into bickering, but seem to have lost the energy and adrenaline to fight.

The bickering just drives Drake's patience just lower and lower, his hand dragging down the side of his face in anguish. "This is akin to torture on such a level that I'd rather pay you lot to just point me in a damn direction to either village."

The two stop arguing at the outburst. "You really want to try fix this? Fine. Come with me." The first stranger Drake met begins to lead him away, cautiously eyeing the other figure who walks in the opposite direction after a few extra insults are thrown.

"<Finally...>" Drake hops down from the tree and treks up to the first figure, keeping both their arms lengths away from him. "Look, I need to do jobs so I can live - if my job means getting you lot to also live, then we have a common goal."

The figure begrudingly agrees and leads Drake for half an hour through the forest. They eventually reach a small village comprised mostly of wooden huts and a handful of brick and concrete structures. The figure takes Drake to one of the concrete buildings and leads him inside, past several guards just as large and muscle ridden.

While not technically sizing them up, Drake does take note of the guards and the layout of the rooms so far, just in case the worst should come. "So were these ruins or built from the ground up?" He asks, in some vain attempt to break the silence.

A Smuggler's Trial

After several days travel, a lone man arrives in a small town on the northern shores of the British Shield States following the instructions given to him two weeks before. "Meet a woman with dark hair in The Sleeping Mermaid within a month and you will be evaluated." The message was signed with a symbol that few knew as the emblem of the Speakeasies.

In the small town, the lone young man makes a suprisingly almost unnoticeable entrance. The man wears a white button-down shirt that exposes his chest but not his stomach, a pair of rugged jeans with a belt that is only noticeable where his shirt is tucked to expose a sword and pistol, and a pair of black combat boots his jeans are tucked into. Carrying a black rucksack towards the tavern, the young seafarer whistles a tune long forgotten by the rest of the world. He enters the tavern after looking around for a short while, enjoying the nice day outside. As he walks through the doorway, his boots squeak on the tiles underneath him.

The tavern is small, about five tables in the room, with two booths in the far corner. Opposite those is the bar, currently staffed by a burly man, who doesn't look up. there are two fishermen at one of the tables who glance at the newcomer before returning to their low conversation. Nobody else seems to be present.

Taking a seat at the bar, near enough to the bartender to be easily serviced, but not close enough to impose upon the man's space. "Mighty fine weather you fellows have here," the strange seaman says to nobody in particular. Then, looking at the bartender, he asks, "Might I get a glass of neat whiskey while I wait?"

The bartender looks up and regards the newcomer for the first time. "Sure, that'll be 5 credits." He busies himself preparing the drink.

"Thanks," sealegs says as he hands over the money. "Eric's the name, by the way. Looking for a woman with dark hair, said to meet her here."

"Bit of a long way to go for a secret rendezvous. She isn't here right now, left this morning on some errand. Should be back somewhen." The bartender goes back to sorting through the stuff behind the bar.

Eric puts twenty credits on the bar. "Keep me filled up, if you don't mind," he says as he takes a sip, looking at the two fishermen for a moment before going back to drinking.

Several minutes later the door to the tavern opens and a feminine figure walks in. She has a scarf over her lower face and dark shades over her eyes, dark brown hair down to her shoulders. She takes a moment to scan the room, lingering on Eric, before heading to one of the booths, gesturing at the bartender as she passes. The bartender hands Eric a bottle of clear rum, "This is for your lady friend, better take it over".

The sailor nods at the tapster and takes the bottle and his rucksack, walking slowly over to her while discreetly looking for any sign of a trap.

“Cautious and aware. Good.” The woman looks up at Eric. “You can call me Sola, my employer has heard you've been looking around for us. We are going to give you a chance to prove yourself, Eric.” She gesture for the rum.

He hands the bottle over to Sola gently, putting his rucksack by the table and sitting down, leaning over the sack. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I have been looking for you. Glad to have had you find me." Eric reaches into his pack, grabbing onto something inside.

Her eyes narrow and movement happens under the table. "I will say this once. Pull a weapon on me and it will be the last thing you ever do. You should announce when you are going to reach for something until you have established trust."

He looks up, realizes what is going on, and takes his hand out holding a small ammo crate with a round hole in it and a wooden stick attached to one side. It was clearly a guitar. "My apologies, I should've realized what that looked like," he says as he begins tuning the instrument. "I'm just very nervous and this helps me relax."

Sola visibly relaxes. “Do pretty girls make you nervous, sailor?” She smirks slightly as the sound of a gun being holstered is heard under the table.

Eric stops tuning. "I suppose we could go with that." He starts playing the song he whistled outside. "Though what I'm more nervous about is what a far-reaching organization wants in return for my operations to remain... intact after all that's happened recently."

She leans forward and adopts a more businesslike stance. "A mission. Proof of usefulness and loyalty. Don't worry, it's something you'd be happy with doing."

"Count me intrigued." His focus does not leave Sola's eyes, looking into them trying to discern anything that might be alarming.

She returns the eye contact and all Eric can discern is flirtation. “You’re taking us to Germany. We will be escorting a family out of the Reich’s border to safety in India. They have a son who has Myth traits and they don’t want him murdered by the Reich. You will be taking point and I will only intervene in things if we are in danger.”

He stops playing and takes another sip of his whiskey. "Well. Two notes on that front. First, lay off the rum. You've got a strange look in your eye. And finally, how does one sneak a myth into the Reich, let alone sneak two and a family out? Even I've learned that there are some places that aren't worth going to..." he trails off, looking at his glass.

"They have appealed to my employer and he has offered his assistance for their extraction. I'm not too fond of returning to the Reich myself, especially on babysitting duty, but loyalty is important and doing difficult things is a good proof of that." She finally opens the bottle of Rum and takes a long swig from it.

Hensworth places his guitar back in the rucksack, leaning forward and sipping on another glass of whiskey. "So, when do we start?" he asks, looking back into her eyes.

Sola puts the bottle down with a thunk. "Next boat to Scandinavia is tomorrow morning three hours before dawn. Finalise any preperations before then." She stands up and walks off, taking the bottle with her.

Eric takes his glass back to the bartender. "Who do I talk to in order to get a room?" he asks.

"Didn't go well with the lady, eh? Rooms are 15 credits per night. Breakfast is extra"

"It went as well as I could've expected, I suppose. I'll be staying one night." He puts the money on the table, plus some extra for breakfast and a bottle of bourbon. "And can I bring a bottle of Bourbon with me?"

The bartender takes the money, hands over the bottle and leads Eric to a small, rather plain, single bed room. After a decent sleep, Eric is awoken a few hours before dawn by Sola knocking at the door. She has a couple sausages and fried tomatoes in a small bowl for him. He gathers his things, quickly eats his breakfast and follows her to the docks. "I've arranged for us to take a boat over to Scandinavia. Once we are there I am taking a backseat to see how you do. I can give suggestions if you want and do have local maps to help out. I will also stop you doing dumb shit." Sola leads him to a small rowboat helmed by a seedy looking guy with an eyepatch.

"Now as pirates go, and I should know, this guy gives me the heebie-jeebies," Eric says with a chuckle as he opens the bottle of whiskey and takes a seat. "Between this guy and myself, your business doesn't deal with the cream of the crop does it?" he asks Sola, coldly taking a sip.

"This guy has helped many myths leave the Reich, it's not often he helps people in." Sola says as she loads her stuff and also sits down.

"The waters up here are much more dangerous than what you are used to, sailor. Kaiju appear every now and then, let's hope any in the area are scared off by your sarcasm." The guy climbs aboard the boat and begins rowing gently out to the sea.

Eric grunts in reply, and takes a bigger swig out of his ever-full bottle. "So what are we looking at in terms of patrols? As in, will an alarm be raised when we start escorting this family out?"

Sola raises an eyebrow at Eric. "Patrols will be concentrated in specific areas, I have reliable contacts that have given me information on the areas that are problematic. We should be fine as long as we are vigilant and keep our heads down."

"So I suppose I will be given a map eventually and you'll show me the big red areas of 'Don't Go Here'? Sounds much easier than I thought, which means either you're hiding something, or something will go horribly astray."

”Everyone hides things, I’m glad to note you’re sensible enough to realize that,” Sola says with a gentle smile. “I hope nothing goes wrong, but knowing the Reich, it’s a possibility.”

Eric takes another swig of his bottle. He then looks around a bit. "Wait, we're not rowing all the way there are we?" he asks, baffled at the thought that just crossed his mind.

Sola lets the question hang while the oarsman chuckles to himself. Before long a shape looms through the morning mist and they approach a modest fishing ship. The oarsman shouts up and a rope ladder is unfurled for the passengers to climb up. Once up on the boat, the crew get to work bringing the rowboat up on deck with a crane. The Oarsman directs them to the cargo hold past a lot of fish and ushers them into a secret compartment with instructions to keep quiet and stay still once they get to shore.

After a few hours in a cramped and fish-smelling room, they hear increased activity outside. After another hour the Oarsman returns and leads them out the hold to the deck. Sola hands him some money and leads Eric off the boat. "Well, here we are. Scandinavia. What was once Norway. Let's get away from the coastline and further inland and then discuss how we are going to travel."

"A bit warmer than the stories..." Eric mumbles under his breath while playing a little tune on his guitar.

"The time of Vikings is long gone. The only things that remember the old days are the trees." She motions to some sporadic copses of evergreen trees. She then leads him along a dirt path for several miles with limited conversation before sharply turning off of the track.

The pirate puts his guitar away whilst keeping pace. He keeps a watchful eye on the surrounding area.

They soon come across a small cottage with gentle smoke whisping out the chimney. Sola knocks on the door in a specific pattern then goes around the back to the entrance of a basement. "We will be safe here for a while to plan the journey and organize what we will need to pick up along the way. Make yourself comfortable, we will be staying for a couple nights." Sola opens the basement door and then heads down.

Eric follows her, one hand holding the bottle of whiskey and water and the other resting on the grip of his pistol.