Alice stomped off of the boat and in to the small town of Minegarde, her arms crossed, grumbling to herself. She had sheathed across her back her Long Sword, Usurper's Boltstriker, which was still glowing after her hunt. It was a capture quest for a Gobul, and oddly, she never bothered to use her Shock Trap or any of her Tranq Bombs. She had only one fate in mind for that smelly fish: Death. A few weeks ago, she had been transferred by the Hunter's Guild to Minegarde from her home town of Port Tanzia due to complaints from hunting parties she had joined. She growled with anger as she remembered the letter that had sent her off...

[Indent][indent][I]Dear Mrs. Alice Okiyama,

We have recieved an alarming number of regular complaints about your behaviors while partaking in capture quests. These complaints include, but are not limited to you seemingly killing the required monster purposefully, with the goal of capture clear in your mind. Because of this, we have decided to relocate you to the town of Minegarde, where you will hopefully pick up the art of the capture from native hunters. As consolation for your relocation, the guild has also decided to provide you with free Trap Tools and Tranq Bombs should you need them.

Regards,
The Hunter's Guild.[/i][/indent][/indent]

Shamba scurried off the boat, joining his master's side. "Try not to fret-alaka, Alice," he consoled. "As young Shakalaka, Shamba master dance much more slower than Priest-alaka. With practice and much work, Shamba become best young dancer in village!"

Alice waved her companions words away and took a seat near the tavern, where she began to pull out two hunks of raw meat. "Alright Shamba, take a seat. Lunch time." Shamba obediently sat cross-legged in front of Alice, closing his eyes for a bout of meditation. Alice meanwhile set the meat on the makeshift spit that was Shamba's mask, slowly turning the meat above the coals. where she began to pull out two hunks of raw meat. "Alright Shamba, take a seat. Lunch time." Shamba obediently sat cross-legged in front of Alice, closing his eyes for a bout of meditation. Alice meanwhile set the meat on the makeshift spit that was Shamba's mask, slowly turning the meat above the coals.