[center][h3][u]Northern Marrenfall, Gybol's Cafe[/u]
[sub]4th of Summer - 11:03 AM[/sub][/h3][/center]

	Gybol's explanation was short and sweet. It wasn't what this old guy was looking for, though. Not even close. Without another word, he reached into his jacket and rummaged around for something while mumbling to himself incoherently. Then he pulled something out and gently placed his hand on the table, letting a thin silver chain leak out of the crevices between his fingers. When he pulled his hand away, it revealed a small amulet almost [i]identical [/i]to Gybol's in its make, from the gemstone to the metal used to craft it. The man coughed and reached into his coat again, pulling out the same piece of paper from earlier.

	"You don't see people in the suburbs carrying around [b]Magical items[/b] like this one non-nonchalantly," He mumbled. The man moved one hand towards the tray that held his soup, and picked up the small black orb that he'd dropped earlier. "It's also fairly uncommon to see humans with a skin-pigment mutation in Thoris, let alone [i]Marrenfall.[/i] Magic is outlawed in all of the suburbs. Carrying around contraptions like these is liable to get you arrested." The old man looked up at Gybol quietly, put the small orb back in the tray, and slowly continued to eat away at his soup. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to leave suspicious things alone?" 

	The old man picked his words very carefully, but to the average person, it might have just seemed like he was [i]scolding[/i] a young man for taking something that wasn't his and putting himself in danger. But to speak with too much detail in a situation like this was not the wisest idea. After all, that old guy was likely carrying [i]way more illegal contraband[/i] that Gybol had ever seen in his life here in the suburbs.

[center][h3][u]Nillium Encampment, The Burroughs[/u]
[sub]3rd of Summer - 9:24 PM[/sub][/h3][/center]

	Mop recoiled from the blow as the stone struck the side of his head. But it was not fully because of Paric's strike, even though it drew blood. In the time that he'd spent to lecture Locke, the captain had regained a fair amount of control over his muscles. Both of his legs were still frozen in place, but his knees would bend. As the rock crashed against his temple, Mop rose lurched his bloody hand and clamped onto Paric's arm, holding him in place with an absurdly powerful grip around his wrist.

	"Ay ay, speak up, mate," Locke gurgled through a fair amount of blood. He rose his head, letting his filthy hair fall past his face to reveal an innocent smile. Blood leaked from the corners of his mouth and stained his bottom teeth, but he spoke relatively clearly, and his tongue wasn't [i]bleeding.[/i] "I'm a lil [i]drunk[/i] ma'self!"

	He slowly rose his sword towards Paric's arm, still having a little trouble controlling his muscles from the after effects of Ayer's electrical blast. But he managed all the same.

	"But I agree with ya. Maybe I should have a present ready for the guy who'a finds me!" He gently placed the sharp edge of his blade against Paric's forearm. "You won't be needin' this where you're going, will yeh?"