[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=sienna]Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://data.whicdn.com/images/11230301/original.png[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Nearing Main House -> Main House, Room 106) 
[b][color=sienna]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	Gilbert took Evelina's advice, opening himself up to the extremely recent unfolding of human events. It was just a bit of a stretch, as the term "Human" had to take a broader meaning in this place. Specifically, Gilbert wasn't 100% sure that he ever was human. The Paradoxes were another matter entirely. They were human once, and maybe still were, but changes had obviously come over them to make them very different. But it counted, so far as the Emendators could glimpse into history. If none of them were truly human anymore, then they were close enough. 

	[color=sienna]"No, Evelina's right, Gio. That would be our new Paradox, James. Good thing I checked, too. I could really go for a flame roasted hog this evening."[/color] He was only half joking, and that half was quickly shut down by the weight in his arms. Peter Keystone. A man of title and courage. He would have likely earned nobility in his own way were it not handed to him by the circumstances of his birth. A dead man, ripped up and bloody, waiting to rejoin the earth. [color=sienna]"He'll figure himself out in a little bit. They always do. And unless I miss my guess, I think another one just stumbled into one of their abilities, too."[/color]

	The words were a bit lackluster, befitting his mood at the moment. Ponderous steps took him up and into the house, where The Dice reminded him of her preference involving Peter's remains. He nodded gravely, and allowed the same heavy footfalls to carry him around the central area and into the room shared by George and Peter. He really should find and tell George what he was doing, so as to spare him the shock of coming upon his good friend's corpse where he kept all of his personals. With reverence, Gilbert laid Pater's body upon his bed and arranged him out straight, finishing the task by draping a sheet over him. [color=sienna]"Best of luck, Peter. Where you go, I do not think I can follow."[/color] 

	Questions of the possibility of afterlife for another time, Gil turned back around and made his way out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. 

	
[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=indianred]James Grady[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://image.ibb.co/i56LZR/Blackjames.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=indianred]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Yard just outside of the Kitchen House)
[b][color=indianred]Skills:[/color][/b] Peccary Form (involuntary) [hr][/center]

	James was not happy. Not a bit. He carried a grudging respect for the form he had adopted, unwanted though it was. For a couple of decades, he had hunted them as nuisance animals. Even got good enough for some longhaired ginger guy from east Texas to write a folk hero style theme song for him. [i]...they call him [b]Black James[/b]...[/i] There was a television program that featured him for a bit there, and he was known besides as a Man of Action, Hog Hunter Extraordinaire. These were skills of his previous life. Even after the world turned into Hell On Earth, wild boar were still his stock and trade. For the longest time, he followed after them, tracked them from place to place, and struck out to find new sounders of hogs. He never over-hunted from one group. He kept tabs on them. James even prevented many a family unit of the porcine beasties from being overrun by hordes of snarling undead. It was his stock and trade. He had survived because of them, and they had survived because of him. 

	It was still a sharp and shaggy chunk of irony that the veteran Hog Hunter just transformed into a wild boar. Poetic justice, maybe. He had killed a good number of them, even if he did do his part to protect the species as a whole. 

	His senses were sharp as a boar, especially in the way of his smell and hearing. He could pick up bits of conversation coming from the Kitchen House as soon as he stopped bellowing, mostly concerning the possibility of tackling him. From another direction, he caught a snatch of 'flame roasted hog' in general speech. Just great. His transformation had made him a target. It wasn't until Alicia came running up that he started to collect himself in earnest. Then she had to go and say something that stabbed him right in the feels. 

	Chocolate Thunder. Damn. 

	It was a phrase that was used first by the son-of-a-bitch that he had, well, [i]murdered[/i] just prior to his own death through unrelated circumstances. The bastard deserved it. James was even willing to die because of his choice, as it meant protecting those he had come to truly care about. But there was guilt. That did it. James began to feel himself slowly shift back, his bristles and tusks receding, limbs lengthening, hard hooves turning into dexterous hands. To his surprise, he was still dressed; the clothing he was wearing seemed to meld into his new form. Still breathing heavily, even shaking slightly, James gave Alicia an appreciative head bob and started to speak. 

	[color=indianred]"I ain't a overly smart man, so lemme get this straight, aight?"[/color] There was a edge to his voice that resembled restrained emotion, [color=indianred]"Big Man can turn into anybody he want to, and pull all kinda shit out his hat, right? Lady Dice over there can bring muthafuckas back from bein' dead. Not like the Walkin' Dead'uns what we had to deal with, but like [i]alive[/i] alive, yeah? We gotta girl what can magic up a goddamn tornado, if'n she's feelin' a little emotional and [i]you[/i] can read how someone feels when you ain't runnin' round in they dreams."[/color] 

	He sat up on the ground and pulled himself into a crosslegged position. [color=indianred]"But me? I can turn into a pig. Ain't that some shit?"[/color] In truth, James could already tell that there were advantages over his human form. He could survive in almost any environment without gear or provisions like that. He could consume [i]anything[/i] and not fall ill or even be disgusted by it. He could detect scents like a frigging superpower; not like Sophia's probably but damn powerful. And his hearing was magnified immensely. He was strong, he was tough, he was [i]fast[/i]. And from what he knew, coupled with what he could feel from being a boar, he could get much, much stronger. And those tusks... Ouch. Still, he was a pig. It was a little embarrassing. 

	[color=indianred]"I hurt anybody?"[/color] he probably should have asked that first.