[color=ed1c24][u][b]James Gregor Castner[/b][/u][/color]- Far Harbor

James stripped off his clothes in front of Far Harbor’s gate. At first he attempted to be neat and carefully avoided placing his clothes in the muck and scum around and on the road. But the guards had no time for this and fired a harpoon straight through his pants, pinning them into the ground and encouraging him to care less about cleanliness. 

Soon enough he was down to nothing. The guards couldn’t hold back their laughter, snorting and guffawing as they gestured him through the gate. All of him was on display as he entered town. A crowd of mostly women and some men had gathered to laugh, holler, and shout profanities at him. When he tried to cover his manhood, some fisher woman threw a hard mutfruit at him. She wheezed with laughter, and shouted “Don’t you ###### try!”.

Damn. This was definitely a low. Fortunately he was in too many battles to really be embarrassed by this kinda crap, even if it still sucked. It went on for a few minutes before a woman suddenly walked directly towards him from the back of the crowd. The woman was slim and about his age from what he could tell. She smirked, thrusted a pair of jeans into his hands, and simply said  "Welcome to Far Harbor, stranger." before turning around and rushing back to what looked like a bar. 

The crowd booed and grumbled when they saw the stranger had been given clothes. A few assorted vegetables were halfheartedly thrown at him before the crowd started to cleared off. He sighed with relief, and then attempted to pull on the pair of jeans he had been given. They were a little small, but just about right. Flashes of pain came from his leg. He better ask the woman who gave him pants if they had a doctor here. But first he had to see if he could get his stuff back. 

He turned around to call the guards from the top of the fortification, seeing their laughter had dried up into chuckling. Before he could say anything, an ancient looking islander stepped up.

"Alright that's enough. [censored] animals, give the boy back his clothes and stop your hollerin'. He did what he was told, ain't gotta make him pay for that."
"He's one of them cultists Longfellow!" someone from the crowd shouted back.
"Hell he could be," the man apparently named Longfellow shrugged, "And he also could be who he says he is. All I know is he sure as hell ain't going to do any harm without a gun or effects, so give him back his britches and lets do this civilized-like."

Well he knew he wasn’t a cultist, he simply had to convince them. He made a mental note to inquire about all of that later. Finally one of the villagers gave him his clothes back. He put underwear on under the jeans, and pulled out a plain grey T-shirt from his rucksack. His old outfit was dirty and damaged from his fall earlier. He stored it away carefully, so it could be cleaned later.

Longfellow stretched out a hand for shaking. He took it, eager to build trust with these people.

"You've come to Far Harbor at a strange time my friend. Name's Longfellow. I trust you really aren't one of them cultists, but just to be safe, we're going to have to put someone to watch you for a little while. Just until we figure out who you are. Nothing personal, but nobody livin' has come out of the fog for awhile now. G'head and have a seat over in the Mariner's old house. Tommy," he addressed one of the townsfolk, "Watch that fella for now until we get a chance to talk with him. Don't let nobody from the town harass him either."

He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of house arrest. “Could I at least get checked out by a doctor before I go there? I think I suffered some injuries on the way here.”