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Dal'Mori Cestrol Menne

His hard brown eyes watched her every movement, both of them showing very clearly what they were. Who they were. Why they were. Yes, they were incredibly different. Yes, they fought in two completely different ways.

Fundamentally, though, they were almost exactly the same. Two faces of the same coin. Two halves of the same whole. This fact was not lost on him, not one bit as he watched his opponent dodge around his attack by sending it off, something that was unfortunately a great deal easier to do now with his one arm being completely dysfunctional.

He figured something out, at least for himself in that moment, as he simply twisted out of the way of her follow up attack. She would be his measuring stick. He found within her a rival, someone to pit his mettle against, and was without a doubt skilled enough to keep up. She met him toe for toe, and more than that was able to out maneuver him! She was to be his equal.

'Equal?'

His stance faltered, just slightly, not enough to really change much, but it could be noticeable to anyone who cared enough to see.

The reason?

That voice came back. It was maddeningly familiar! Yet, simultaneously, without placement in his memory. Regardless of the familiarity of the voice though, he was caught off guard by the doubt in the voice that spoke that single word, and worse than that was the doubt it spread into him, like a fast acting poison, it spread through his body.

Was she his equal?

He had fought hard, and earned his place in this fight, when she was simply given the placement. He was currently putting everything he had into this fight, and while it seemed she was as well, she had landed several debilitating blows, whereas he had yet to even land a glancing one. He was tiring out at a ridiculous pace, where she seemed to pull on this whole new well of energy.

As he stared her down, his body shifted only enough to keep him facing her, which was rather easy all things considered, she was circling him looking for the moment to strike, and he was waiting for it. Two different styles of patience being put to the test against each other here, it was only a matter of time before one won out against the other.

He waited.

He knew it was coming, the attack, he wasn't completely sure when, but the building tension in his gut was practically sounding it out for him, as if giving him a premonition of the attack to come.

He wondered for a brief moment, if this is what prey felt like, as it was circled by the bigger, meaner beastie.

He felt useless, and weak. Unable to halt the inevitable. He knew, he knew he was able to handle this. Had he been more awake. Had he eaten. Had there been more time before this fight had started so he could get used to his new weaponry being on his person. Despite all of that though, they were nothing more than what they were, excuses.

Excuses to cover up the fact that he simply was not strong enough. He didn't warrant the attention his opponent did, and only proved strong enough to be pit against her, to see how she fared.

He was unprepared for the resentment that welled up within him at that thought, and it cost him dearly. The surprise from that feeling caused him to misstep, just a small amount, but for the predator he was caught in this area with, it was enough. They latched onto it with a staggering amount of power, not unlike a lioness leaping unto an unsuspecting gazelle. The damage from the blow wracked through his whole body, sending him staggering back a few steps. The only sound that accompanied it was a thud.

The thud drew a surprising amount of his attention. Not the almost feral person he was in here with, nor the blood now coating the front of his body from a deep gas, nor even the pain that welled up like a geyser within him at the added injury.

His eyes were locked onto that one spot.

For, laying on the ground, right in the area the thud resounded from, was the bottom half of his upper body armor. He wasn't entirely sure what was causing the double vision. The fact that he was in more pain than he could ever remember, even when he was within the jaws of one of those beasties, or that fact that something that had been through as much combat as he was now lay broken.

Something started building up at the sight of that.

An item that had seen him through most of his adult years. Something that had had his back better than most things. Something that stood with him as he attempted to combat the ravages of monsters and time. It had taken and turned aside so many blows he simply could not comprehend what it was his eyes were seeing. Something had actually managed to damage it. He was used to it coming off, being light based armor, it stood to reason it had ties and such that could come loose, but it had never broken like this before.

Then it exploded.

A cry of rage that matched Faelan's roar of fury ripped itself from his throat, and his gaze snapped towards his opponent like a whip, his hair actually performing the action of a whip snapping due to this.

No words were spoken, no sounds uttered after the cry, as his body simply moved with an incredible precision despite the obvious lack of physical ability, and the now very distracting feelings of anger. He spun towards her with enough force that the rest of his upper body armor fell off, leaving only a somewhat form fitting white t-shirt, that had a slice right in the abdomen, only small amounts of blood residing upon its surface.

That motion turned into the very practiced act of shooting forward, which at this point had been polished to perfection with how many times he had to do it in these past few fights, so his body just melded into the action as it always had, twisting just right to add as much thrust into the attack as was possible, aiming directly for center mass.

It was a direct and very obvious attack, but it would serve its purpose. Sometimes the most obvious of things were the ones that worked the best.





Ooc:

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Dal'Mori Cestrol Menne

Dal'Mori opened his eyes and looked down with a sort of morbid fascination, his eyes seemingly incapable of making out the sight that greeted him, his breaths leaving his lips in a heavy fashion.

The world around him phased in and out, as if it couldn't decide if it wanted to be reality or a blank sheet of blackish nothing, becoming fuzzy and then crystal clear.

Rewinding back just a little bit, we find our favorite warrior twisting into a powerful thrust right towards his opponent, every ounce of training and ability going into pushing that weapon right for her center mass. His face contorted in a rage comparable to the one that washed over his face when Acel had mentioned his home back in their fight, his lips pulled back into a fierce snarl as a sound not entirely unlike a cornered animal filled the air between them.

He didn't care about how over extended he was, nor how open his stance became when he made this attack, the only thing on his mind was getting this attack landed, and the weird need to push as much effort into the attack.

It turns out, this was a bad thing.

His opponent did something that even the seasoned warrior would have never guessed. He allowed the blade to hit him, his stance altering just enough that he could force it to go right where he wanted it too. What blew his mind though, was that Faelan didn't just allow it to hit, he turned the attack into a means of putting distance between them.

Dal'Mori felt more rage that the sight of this, his opponent was laughing at him now. Blatantly making it obvious he couldn't win this fight even if he landed a blow.

The blood on the tip of his weapon was a hollow victory at best.

The only consolation was when his opponent ripped his weapon out. Regardless of the fact that he knew his opponent would heal all the damage he just dealt within moments of the attack landing, there was something just so satisfying about knowing he caused his opponent even a moment of discomfort.

However, what he was not expecting, was to suddenly open his eyes and find himself looking down the business end of a weapon impaled right under his rib cage. 'There is way less blood than I thought there would be.' He noted, with an odd sense of detachment, almost like he was not actually present.

The pain seemed to be all the way in the back of his mind, as things slowly started to just eat away into darkness. He lifted his head and glared right into the eyes of his opponent, who was currently locked in place by Dal'Mori's hands, which were tightly wrapped around the weapon lodged in his lower chest.

In that moment, something dark took hold, and the look in his eyes shifted from something that spoke of determination and anger, to obsession and rage, his lips pulling back into a twisted grin as the bodily fluid that built up in his mouth poured out.

As though it had never occurred, it was gone. The look, the smile, the consciousness. Gone. He toppled over to the side, his body no longer able to hold itself up any longer as the medics rushed over towards his fallen body.





Ooc: Good fight! ^-^

Line Count: 970

The man who had entered the tournament grounds earlier that day was there once again, stalking into the limelight like a vicious predator. Dal'Mori had been removed from the fight--as expected--and he was being healed by the medics after the vicious battle that had taken place. They were both incredible fighters--to be sure--but Dal'Mori...he was going to be great. The man was going to grow after his first defeat--and Cain could tell. He wondered if he should approach the man now--take him under his wing and teach him how to be a true monster...but not yet. He still had a lot of observing to do. He couldn't quite tell how much of Dal'Mori's hatred that he could utilize--how much he could take advantage of the man before he grew soft. He seemed like he had that sort of streak in him--a soft streak. He saw the way that the man interacted with his allies. He was smart--to be sure--and he was calculating. The man wanted something from them, and he was going to get it, no matter the cost, and if he didn't, he would throw himself into his vengeance without them. This was all something that Cain could use. But Acel...that piece of s**t child. If he was able to soften Dal'Mori. If he was able to pull him back from his madness--hell, if any of the people who were trying to support the man succeeded...it could ruin everything. Well...not everything, merely a powerful pawn. As he stepped into the Arena, he cleared his throat and the camera locked onto him, and instantly the man's face was broadcast throughout the Baiter Headquarters. He looked into the camera instinctively, his eyes hard and cold.

"Everyone! Thank you for your viewing and participation in this tournament! One of the lower tier fights is still ongoing, though the finale has already closed. We have allowed these two fighters to continue their bout, and they are taking this opportunity to showcase their skills. I know that you all will be very impressed with their work, all of these current rookies, and rest assured that they will only grow from here. The grand tournament prize--an A.I. Lure--will be delivered to the winner, Faelan McBride. It is a rare and valuable artifact that we are sure he shall use well. For those of you who are viewing this broadcast, these baiters will all be open for missions effective immediately. So, please do send your requests--for they will need as much experience as they can get--and as you can see, they all have battle chops at the very least. I thank you all for watching, and for participating once more, and I look forward to watching the progress of this new Era of operative. Enjoy your days, and see you all soon." The man bowed and the stream cut out completely. He smiled beneath his shadowed visage as the man faded out, moving off to a dark corner of the arenas and seeming to vanish completely. As always, his comings and goings were mysterious at the very least. But, then again, very few people had the power to question such a man.

STAND BY______________________________________________

- - -

A soft beep rang out as a floating screen appeared suddenly in front of the unconscious Faelan. It continued on until the finally Faelan lifted his head to gaze that the screen. Most of the night Fae had spent taking apart various pieces of technology and putting them back together again once he had understood just how they where crafted. He was no engineer, but such practice allowed him to gain new insights on what these sorts of things were made from and just how they were put together. As a blacksmith this sort of experience was invaluable to progressing his future understanding. Eventually Faelan had gathered a small hoard of things that his one table had turned into three. Each table had a different kind of technology on it and was surrounded by various user manuals and books describing how the technology worked and the different applications it had both in combat and in civilian use. However as Fae learned more and more about the new equipment he was going to forge for himself he also began to think about himself, more specifically his own body. He could a growing force inside of him that was neither like the organic feeling of a Dreadwolf, or the machine feeling of a Baiter. It was a unique sort of hybridization that was slowly consuming his past self and creating something in between. This feeling only made Faelan want to understand it more and to that extent he had run a serious of test upon his body while he was sleeping. The results of the tests had just came, and was the series of beeping noises that had just woken him up. After opening the results Faelan's brow furrowed. Most of the report was simple medical garbage that Faelan would never be able to decipher, but from what he could understand was that something had caused the sensors to fail during the full body exam. Whatever it was that was changing him was still alluding BAITR as much as it was him.

Heaving a long, and slightly frustrated, sigh Faelan stood up from his rolling chair and stretched out the various knots in his muscles. It was then that he looked over and noticed that the gaping wound in his shoulder had been healed as well. The AI's ability to repair the body was slightly surprising. As it was Faelan was only wearing a simple tank top and a pair of sweat pants he had asked Kevin, his now borderline manservant, to procure earlier on that night. After all his previous clothing needed to be repaired and washed of all the blood stains. Along with repairing the large hole in the shoulder Faelan had also added the same lightweight mesh lining that he had added to Dal'Mori's armor to the inside of most of the clothing. This had turned the Kevlar woven uniform into a sturdy suit of light armor that would at least keep him from dying by a stray bullet or a passing swing of a blade. He had grown strong, but he was still not strong enough to entirely disregard his own safety when out on a mission – or so he thinks now; the truth of the matter is that if Faelan decides that he wants to kill something there isn't a force in the world capable of stopping him from doing exactly that. Even if doing so would ultimately cost him his life Fae would not hesitate in making that choice. That was just the kind of person he was, blood thirsty to the end it seems.

After Faelan finished stretching out the various kinks in his body he began undressing and putting back on the newly upgraded uniform. Just as he was finishing up the sound of the door opening caught his attention. Immediately Faelan took up a somewhat defensive stance he looked towards the door with a hint of indifference. As for what Keven had told him earlier this was his own personal testing and creation lab and there were many more like it on the same floor, and so unless someone had gotten lost there was no reason for a large group of people to be visiting this particular lab. That was unless Kevin had finally gotten tired of his incessant pestering for new things to study and finally found someone that wished to throw him out. It wasn't until he noticed Kevin, leading the group, with an apologetic look plastered on his face that Faelan finally calmed down a bit. Following closely behind the BAITR engineer were what looked to be a small handful of executive ranking business men. Each one held a look of smugness and superiority, but none said anything as they spotted the Faelan off in the corner of the room glaring at them seemingly somewhat annoyed. It was Kevin that finally broke the silence of the room as the men continued to stroll over leisurely.

“These men are BAITR officials and have come to reward you for claiming first place in the tournament.” Kevin had gotten a feel for Faelan's temperament after spending the whole night with him, and he knew that the appearance of these new people would have placed Fae in a somewhat foul mood. “Young Miss, or is it Sir? How about simply young Baiter? Either way we are proud to present you with this rare piece of technology.” The man who spoke wore an expensive black suit and spoke as if everything was beneath him. He was neither old or young, but a touch of gray did linger on the tip of his hair. The man's posture was that of your typical business man whom had yet to work a hard day in his life. These were the type of people Faelan hated the most. So instead of answering back with a few polite words Faelan only nodded his head and waited for another one of the business men to step forward and present a hard plastic case. “You can set the orb within to any frequency of a Bit Core level AI you with and it will be drawn to it without fail. It is a rare treasure for any growing Baiter! You are most lucky to have won this prize.” Some what agitated by Faelan's lack of a proper response, or repect for that matter, the business man continued to speak thinking that Faelan simply did not understand the gift he was being given. Once again Faelan only nodded and then moved forward to take the case from the other man's hands. Once the case was firmly in his hands Faelan turned and placed it on one of the three tables that was still currently filled with bits and pieces of junk. After placing the case down on the desk Falean didn't bother with turning back around and instead sat back down and started working on the various things he had been tinkering with the night before. Of course this only seemed to further anger the buisness man as a deep vain appeared on the man's temple. Still as the man continued to think about the the reason why he was here and the why Faelan was being given this object a slight feeling of fear slipped into the man's mind. Quickly before he could say something that might get him killed the man smiled and said his goodbye leaving the room as fast as he possible could.

Once all the suits had finally left the room Faelan allowed his shoulders to relax once again redoubling his attentions to the things upon the desks. Among the various things he had been studying was a thick black onyx ring that had various silver circutry lines running all around it. This was a transporation ring that allowed one to teleport objects from a specifically designed container and back as they pleased. Faelan placed the ring on his finger carfully and then brushed his hand over the case as if he was caressing it. In a flash the case disappeared from the table. A slight grin parted his lips at the sight. With a bit of thought the case once again reappeared, but this time it appeared in front of him. Waving his hand Faelan watched as the case dispparead once again before moving on to store a few of the other unqiue pieces of tech laying around. It was turely like magic being have all this at his finger tips. Once everything that Fae knew he needed was stored away he stood from the desk and left room without another word. The person whom Kevin had sent to deliver Dal'Mori's armor should have already found the warrior by now, or so Faelan mused. With little else to do now Faelan decied he might as well pay his previous opponent a visit to see just how well the warrior had recuperated in just a single day of rest.

When Faelan arrived at the infirmiry – after only getting lost once this time - he quickly noticed that Dal'Mori had already pushed his way out of bed and left. A quick search of the room gave Fae the impression he had been here not too long ago, but just as he was about to leave in search of the warrior a man in a long white medical lab coat blocked his way with a look of annoyance. “Care to explain why you are searching through a patients room?” It was obvious this man held no good will towards Faelan or even Dal'Mori who had been in this room. His look was one of calousness that spoke of the many lives he had seen come and go under his care. Only a hint of kindess was hidden behind his stare, but the doctor was unwilling to show it.“I was his last opponent, did he happen to say where he was going?” Faelan didn't bother to offer up an explanation other than he was the one who had placed Dal'Mori in his current state, and instead asked a question. The obvious lack of care in Fae's voice startled the Doctor at first, but he quickly hid the surge of emotion and kept his clam composure. “He left, looking for something I believe. Will you leave now?”

“En, I will take my leave now.” Fae's tone was one of indifference, not unlike the doctor whom he was speaking with. As Faelan finished speaking the Doctor stepped back and off to the side allowing Fae to actually pass through the door way. “You should take the armor over there with you, someone had just dropped it off as Mr. Menne was stroming off. The man has truly bad timing it appears.” Looking back the Doctor was pointing to a set of armor placed on the counter of the nurses station. Giving it a look over Fae couldn't help but sigh. It was after all the armor he had just spent all that time repairing. This was no doubt what Dal'Mori had been looking for as he had stormed off. It made sense thinking back tot he anger the man had felt when it was cut in half. After gathering up the armor in his Faelan moved towards the training lobby, as it was the first place Dal was likely to check. After all Faelan did not take the time to hide that he was the one that had taken the armor away from the collesium. Many people had probably saw the scene. At the thought Falean couldn't help but put on a cold smile, this was undoubtably going to cause a large misunderstand. “Warrior, you are more trouble than you are worth.” A hint of conciousness broke through the normal look of indifference as Fae clentched his teeth in fit of frustration. Whatever was growing inside of him was not going to let him look at the world in a indifferent manner much longer it seemed.

Upon entering the the training lobby a loud voice reached Fae's ears. It was curt, but the intense feeling of anger was still clearly portrayed within each word. After listening for a few moments Fae's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. As he suspected earlier the incident had turned from bad to worse in a matter of a single night. The current Dal'Mori was acting as if he was possessed moving from one person to another as quick as he coud get answers out of them. Civilian and Baiter a like couldn't help but get a worried look on their face as this seemingly crazy man walked up and started to demand answer from him. Fae pulled his hand back that was currently holding the piece of armor and then launched it forward with all the strenght he could muster. It's target, ironically, was the man whom was currently seeking it. After tossing the armor Fae began to walk slowly towards the Warrior himself a hint of frustration obvious in his poster. “Is this how a warrior is raised?!” The words were meant to be kept inside, but Faelan found that it was currently becoming very difficult to internalize any particular thought at the moment. An immense power was welling up inside his mind and like a tidle wave it was crashing upon his body with the intention of once again changing him. Currently though the pain of the sudden change was simply manifesting itself in a sort of annoyance that was being vented upon an unsuspecting Dal'Mori.


▽▽▽ Lines : 1171

xxxxx◈Location: Arena ◈Company: Corrinne ◈Mood: Calm, Enthusiastic, Motivated





{OOC: }

Dal'Mori Cestrol Menne

Being naturally oblivious held its benefits.

For example, he didn't even notice that the people around him were apparently mocking him openly, or laughing at his misfortune. Sure, they were registered, as all things usually were to the mind of a well-trained combatant, but he pushed them down, determined to go one day without something happening within the confines of his own mind.

He did notice that it took a moment for the lady to answer his question, her eyes darting to the people around them, as if marking them for the hunt. Like little blazing fires of gold, smothered to the point of almost nonexistence, they picked out several faces in the crowd, for what purpose? He didn't care too much.

He had business to attend too, and if she didn't want to come, that was fine, he just needed to know.

When she agreed he nodded in acknowledgement he readied himself for movement, shrugging off the effect she apparently had on the people around her with ease. Hey, no matter how well she may fight in the arena, he has had actual monsters attack him before. Not a lot can generate much more fear than that.

He waved her into the lead when she suggested they go to the mission office, wherever that was. He was more than content to allow someone who at the very least seemed like they knew where they were going take the lead, it would be much easier than him trying to do it.

Every time he tried to go anywhere, he would get lost.

Apparently he wasn't the only one unsure of where exactly they were going, so they had stopped to ask a very sweet looking woman, a little on the heavier side, with sleek black hair. Once they knew for sure where they were going, they headed off, a companionable silence between them. The only issue that arose was a few mishaps with his footing, and one particularly bad situation with what the person had identified as a waffle iron.

All throughout, though, Dal'Mori was taking measure of his opponent turned partner.

Outside of the things he had already learned from combat, he learned she was about as talkative as him. She didn't waste time with minced words, and he appreciated that. It meant no uncomfortable questions, no unnecessary conversations. He would make sure they had a bit of time to talk, obviously, you can't go into a combat with a blindfold on, but for now it could be quiet and he could enjoy it.

Upon reaching the office, there was a noticeable shift in behavior.

She seemed to suddenly defer to him, as though thrusting him into the leadership position. At first he wondered why, but then shrugged it off. If she wanted to let him run things, he would be fine with that. She was trusting her life to his hands, the least he could do is take the same step, as well as one to ensure he was worth the trust.

Trust was key.

He took lead without issue, stepping right up to the first person he saw, who explained they needed to go do lower leveled missions being new to the ranks. Dal'Mori shrugged at this, seeing the logic immediately. They were grunts, they were to be settled with grunt work.

As soon as he reached the desk, he realized there was a short line, apparently they had been recruiting a lot lately. This gave him a little time to marvel at the world around him. Small structures, with the same clear looking wood his cup was made out of, and several sources that looked like perfectly contained fires.

Truly the magic of this culture was magnificent.

A brief wait and short interaction later, they had their mission! It was something simple, something Dal'Mori had to do back home actually. A perimeter check. Basically walking around to see if you can see anything.

In most instances it was pretty much just a scenery walk.

He could live with this as his first mission. The journey of a thousand steps starts with the first one and all that. He started off immediately, heading towards the portal room that the gentleman working the desk was so kind as to offer.

As they were walking that way, the spear wielding warrior turned his attention to his soon to be battle sister. "I think we'd be better off with you on point." He spoke in a matter of fact tone, but in no way was it condescending. It was simply the way he saw things. She was very close range, the only time she attacked from afar was when she threw one of those blades of hers. So, this meant she was better suited for first engagement. Him, being a spear wielder, could then cover her from behind, with his longer weapon.

They complemented each other well, the only issue he could foresee is her completely feral side lose control. She obviously had some issues if she needed to have some form of mental defense against it that wasn't a physical manifestation. However, he was now well rested and full, so he felt he had a much better chance at taking her on this time if it came down to it.

Even if it came to that though, he would find a way to bring her back. She would prove to be a valuable asset if she proved to hate these monsters like he did.

Shortly after he finished speaking to her, they reached the area with the teleporters, and Dal'Mori started mentally preparing himself for it. He didn't really give her time to respond to what he said, knowing if he thought about it for too long, he might have some issues with this magic that tore him apart and dropped him unceremoniously at the drop point.

At which point, he will pick himself up, turn towards Faelan, and ask her what she thought of the idea. He was very versatile right now; he could cover either position with ease.






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Line Count: 197

Corrinne, confused by their friendly mood had let her guard down after Satoru smiled at her. She gasped inwardly, what a charming smile, she thought to herself. Suddenly she wanted to know more about this man but this was definitely not the place. So once he had grabbed her and pulled her beneath him she continued to fight friskily. “Sure,” Corrinne answered him with a coy smile before kicking him harshly in the stomach. Her eyes widened in shock as she watched him grunt in discomfort from the blow. “Oh,” She uttered, she was about to apologize again but remembered that she had just agreed to withhold the pleasantries till after the fight. Another awkward moment, as she would rather tend to his wounds than create more! But she had to prove something to herself and thus continued with the fight. Thankfully, his arm blocked her next attack, for some reason this made her feel relieved. Maybe it was because, if he could still block her attacks, he still had strength enough to fight. After all, Corrinne was enjoying this somewhat impish battle.

“You’re not tired yet, are you?” She bit her bottom lip and moved her waist to the side so that his powerful punch hit the ground instead of her. The closeness of their combat limited their choices in actions to barbarous and bestial forms of attack. She could feel the rock from the shaken earth next to her hit her side from his mighty blow. This only heightened her feelings of excitement as she pulled her body up close to his to try and distract him, her breathing heavy, her hair damp from the rough activity. “Cause we’re just getting started,” She whispered to him in a coquettish manner while her knee plunged in the direction of his groin, her right hand coming in for another punch to the jaw.

LINES: 886





OOC:

The secretary looked up from her computer, raising a thin eyebrow at the woman before her. She was certainly dressed oddly, but not as odd as the one fighter that wore a pink smiling cat mask and insisted on meowing after every sentence. That one was certainly weird, she hadn't seen him in a while though and could only guess what happened to him. The secretary flipped her black bangs to one side of her face so she could see the computer screen a little better. After a few types and clicks on it, she found what she was looking for. She found out that the woman before her was very new recruit, which allowed her to know what kind of mission to send her one. She also found out that the outfit was actually her body of sorts. That explained a lot. Nothing she wasn't use to. There was that one girl with headphones on her which was her only way to hear. Amazing what technology could do these days.

“Hmm... Let's see.... There's a mission in Africa right now. Some locals at the small camp of Last Chance have spotted something and want someone to look into it.” She hit the print button, pushing her rolling computer chair to the printer, after a few seconds she grabbed the paper, rolling back to her computer and the woman waiting. She held up the paper and pointed at the contends printed on it with a well filed nail. “This is a map on how to get to Last Chance from the base in Africa, just follow it or you can also get a guide to take you there. Just fair warning, don't be surprised if anyone takes their hat off to you, Last Chance doesn't have a good reputation.” She said cautiously before handing the woman the paper and smiling. “Have fun.” Saying it as chipper as a woman behind a cash register in store as the customer leaves.


OOC: Hello! I will be manning you mission, I hope we have fun together ^.^
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