[center][h3]Tora & Poppi[/h3] [b]Level 5 Tora[/b] - (2/50) EXP and [b]Level 4 Poppi[/b] - (1/40) EXP [b]Location:[/b] Hammerhead [b]Word Count:[/b] 328[/center] With his mouth running a mile a minute, Tora scarcely let Cid get a word in, but after a few moments the frenzy returned to normal conversation. When the grizzled tinker could respond, he gave the enthusiastic Nopon everything he wanted to know and more, from the duty of a mechanic to the sorts of projects worked on to the tools of the trade. After that, he went on a brief tour with Cid, which only served to add more fuel to its fire. When it finished, Tora was literally bouncing up and down. “Wow-wow-wow! Is dream come true, meh!” he exclaimed, dancing in excitement. “How did Tora toil on own for so long, when places like Hammery-head exist? How soon can Tora join!? Want to make huge-huge dohickies and explodies and awesome machines!” Poppi might have snorted in laughter, if she could breath. “Is Masterpon forgetting something?” The look on Tora's face said that he hadn't, and the wind was taken from his sails. “...No, meh. Will not give up on quest to save world. And, when world get saved and go back to normal, Hammerhead and friends Cid and Linky-Linky and Mina and Blazermate and Ratchet and Junior and all rest go away, too. But working at place like this nice thought.” Cid looked baffled by all the nonsense that just spewed from Tora's mouth. “Uh...” Steamrolling over him, Tora gave as resolute nod and proclaimed. “Later, Tora will come back and visit. Then, when back to Alrest, Tora earn money and make mechanic shop just like, meh. This Tora's new dream!” The sight of Tora so passionate brought a smile to Poppi's face. “Then, it Poppi dream as well!” She gave Cid a proper bow, then smiled with a tilt of her head. “Thanks to kind wrinklypon for inspiring masterpon.” After a few more words, the duo bid Cid farewell and headed into the nearest garage for another look around, only to run into Donnie. [hr] A new voice caught the attention of everyone present, cooling their tempers for the time being. Nero sized Gene up, noting that he looked like much more of a fighter than any of the four friends, except perhaps the shirt-deprived one. “Don't know about end of the world, pal, but it's sure not making things any better.” At Gene's prompting, he looked among the new arrivals, noting their equipment. He then refocused on Gene. “Yeah, I bet you do, and I bet you can, especially seeing as you don't know what the Qliphoth is. Your group over there have any demon blood amongst you?” The ensuing second of silence told him everything he needed to know. “Well then, I've got bad news. The city's swarming with demons, with the weakest one taking more than a whole clip of rifle ammo to knock over. Plus, there's swarms of zombies, far as the eye can see. If you want your blood drained or brains eaten that bad then you can head on up there, but take it from me: leave this to the professionals.” A snort came from the van, and Nero threw his friend an exasperated look. He sighed before starting to walk around to the passenger's side. [hr] Inside Grillby's was a quaint, cozy atmosphere. For being almost lunchtime, there didn't seem to be too many customers. The Courier could only spot two parties: a group of [url=https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/001/026/504/a10.png]dogs[/url] playing cards, and a leather-clad [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/dillonsrollingwestern/images/9/90/Dillon-dhb.png/revision/latest?cb=20180309043721]armadillo[/url] halfway through a plate of glazed beetles and fried grubs. Behind the counter stood a flaming [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/megaman/images/0/04/Fireman.png/revision/latest?cb=20100508214253]machine[/url], presumably the staff, casually cleaning out mugs as though he wasn't a living fire hazard. Luckily, the place seemed fairly inflammable. [center][h3]Lumbridge[/h3] [@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN][/center] The houndmaster scratched his dog's ears, and considered Geralt's predicament while giving his reply. “The usual, intriguing as that might be. With the rollover only an evening prior, the youngsters still rove eagerly across the countryside, accumulating goods and knowledge. Perhaps one has stumbled across a fresh surge of your desired herb.” He paused, glancing about. With the thrill of Geralt's arrival subsiding and the man going about his business, most of the mercenary's devotees peeled off to go about theirs. Two of the older, more serious lads -the sort who wished in earnest to learn from Geralt's experience and emulate his prowess- acknowledge the houndmaster before heading inside; [url=https://www.fightersgeneration.com/nf8/char/granblue/gran-granblue-portrait-art.PNG]Gran[/url] and [url=https://dragalialost.gamepress.gg/sites/dragalialost/files/2018-10/Euden-4-star_0.png]Euden[/url] were their names, and while rather straightforward in character, they shared an uncommon knack for making friends. After they left, and the children drifted away, the houndmaster began again. “If you seek to better equip yourself, you returned at a fortuitous time. Malo's surely features new stock, owing to the firstfruits of the rollover, and the smithy's flames lay kindled for metalworking.” Despite Geralt's newness, the houndmaster hardly need go into detail on the Land of Adventure's principle phenomenon. Once a week, the vast majority of the region regenerated itself, the terrain changed and replenished in the darkest hours of the night. As new bounties arose, so did new threats, growing in strength over the course of the week. On the first day, the scouting parties ranged far and wide, and not long after the gatherers and fighters made their rounds. This never-ending cycle of discovery and adventure made the region what it was. A few things remained constant: the climate, the approximate danger level one could expect of various areas, Lumbridge, a couple other settlements, and at the far end of the Land, the End, where the world gave way to an otherworldly void none dared brave. “As for specific happenings, I can attest that the Guildmarm commands a bevy of fresh tasks. Whoever lurks behind the new guildmaster's cowl, he surely knows his business. More likely than not, they can tell you more about this wolf of yours, or even advice for laying it low. As for me...” the houndmaster quit stroking his companion to pat the spiked club lying by his side. “Blackjack to the head, then bleed it with the dog. Regeneration or no, inordinate exsanguination will take it before long. Would that I could join your hunt, if not for my duty.” It went unsaid, though not unknown, that the houndmaster could be more of a burden than a help, as he lacked the Witcher's stamina and would surely fall behind. “If you pay heed to rumors,” he continued, “That Shulk boy claims to have beheld a monstrosity of uncommon size and power in the hills to the southeast, the sort to demand a whole battalion to bring low. Guildmaster hasn't put out a contract yet. Whatever you do, take care out there.” Leaning back in his chair, the houndmaster waved Geralt off.