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[sub][@Silvan Haven] [@CoyoteLovely] [@LPRKN] [@Lmpkio] [@t2wave][/sub][/center]

The drone of insects humming started the usual routine of awaking dawn. Slowly, the forest came alive with layers of sounds echoing in the cold morning air. Little frogs croaked under large, broad leaves. Webs were strung with delicate drops of morning dew, glistening in the first shards of sunlight. While mankind slept, the animals in every corner of the world awaited the new dawn. All men except for those of Transport-C19.

In a glade fifty miles north of Wesville, Transport-C19 made it's final decent. It would be the day's first drop-off, and on it one of the galaxy's greatest guardians awaited permission to move about the cabin, that too which came about fairly soon. Upon landing, the guardian was first and last too step off the transport. Silently, he took in he scenery.

It was an early autumn morning and a frosty chill hung in the air. The sweet surrendering scent of the morning dew filled the forest with a scent that did not belong on Ecetopia. Autumn leaves from the tall trees lay scattered on the forest floor; each of them turning brittle brown; there was a sound like dried cereal being crunched underfoot, pushing their papery remains deep into the soft soil. The dark shadows of the voluminous trees and the surrounding bushes had become the backbone of the forest, standing as passive protectors of a peaceful place. 

[color=Orange]"The fuck."[/color] Were the first words uttered from the guardian's mouth. On his shoulder, a chimpanzee lit what seemed to a cigar and sighed in contentment. He seemed unaffected by the guardian's words, and seemed further unaffected by the heavy stride his master employed as he made his way over to the pilot's window, too which he callously rapped his fist on.

The pilot, a rather scruffy, unkempt man revealed himself. [b]"What can I do yer fer, sir?"[/b] he breathed, letting out a stench worse that the chimpanzee's diaper on Bombastic Bean Sunday back at the monastery.

[color=Orange]"Dayum, clean ya' mouth first!"[/color] the guardian said quickly, flinching and covering over his nose with his hand. [color=Orange]"And dayum, can't ya drop ah brotha off any closer to civilization?"[/color]

The pilot snickered. [b]"Sorry, regulation has it that we keep a fifty mile gap between us that there civ."[/b] At that he leaned in to whisper. [b]"The locals tend to start worshiping us."[/b]

The guardian sighed. [color=Orange]"Well, could ya least point me in the direction of Wesville?"[/color]

[b]"Fifty miles south. . .brotha!"[/b] the pilot jibbed as he lifted of into the air. With one last gust of hot air,  Transport-C19 launched back into space, leaving the guardian and his chimpanzee stranded.

[color=Orange]"Dayum!"[/color] the guardian sighed once again, his frustration accented by slight nod of the head. [color=Orange]"Well, we betta start moving, else we gonna miss the team. Hey, why don't ya give me a beat?"[/color] the guardian acquiesced.

The chimpanzee on his shoulder removed the cigar from his mouth and cheered, with it releasing a cloud of smoke. As nimbly as a monkey could, he dropped down to the guardian's waist where a small machine rested. There he reached for a small dial, twisted it, and pressed a green button. Almost immediately a symphony of [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nqLmlgzcWU]sound[/url] came forth from it's speakers, shattering the serenity of the forest. 

When the guardian heard the music it was as if liquid adrenaline had been injected right into his blood stream - just enough to make him tingle and start to move his body. As he started his way through the forest he was a well oiled dancing machine, each movement in perfect rhythm. [color=Orange]"Ohhh, Moses you know how to get a brotha movin' and groovin'!"[/color] the guardian laughed. 

There was a reason why the guardian was known as the Grandmaster of Funk, or commonly as Aaron Young. And when Aaron Young wasn't Grandmasterin' back at Puff-Pass Peak or Guardin' and Savin' as a member of the Kindred, he was tearing up the dance floor. In this case, he had fifty-miles of dance floor to cover over before duty called. And when duty called, Aaron Young always answered.

As a result of his dancing, Aaron and Moses covered the fifty miles before noon and arrived in Wesville oddly as refreshed as he had been upon landing. Wesville was a maze of narrow winding streets, as complex as the heart. The streets were the veins, paved with dark red stones, and the people were the blood. The sound of the smiths, beating swords and breastplates into shape, was the consistent and dull pounding that let one know the town was alive.

Moses grunted twice and scratched at his head. Aaron nodded in return. [color=Orange]"Yeah, I'm sure this is it."[/color] Moses grunted again. [color=Orange]"Naw, that pilot know better than to trick the Purifiers. Now let's go find the team. Ain't no one tryna get left behind today."[/color]

Aaron and Moses set of into the town.