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[hider=Info]
[b][color=#50C878]Race:[/color][/b] Urban Halfling  
[b][color=#50C878]Class:[/color][/b] Rogue  
[b][color=#50C878]Location:[/color][/b] Port Verge 
[b][color=#50C878]Interactions:[/color][/b] 


[b][color=#50C878]Equipment:[/color][/b]
[color=black]⦾[/color]  Hand crossbow  
[color=black]⦾[/color]  Shortsword  
[color=black]⦾[/color]  Coil of silk rope (lightweight, quiet)  
[color=black]⦾[/color]  Small lockpicking kit  
[color=black]⦾[/color]  Concealed shoulder satchel (documents & odds-and-ends)  
[color=black]⦾[/color]  Hooded travel cloak 

[b][color=#50C878]Trinkets:[/color][/b]
[color=black]⦾[/color] Phia’s Yellow marble.

[b][color=#50C878]Attire:[/color][/b] Plain traveler’s shirt, tanned vest, dark trousers tucked into leather boots; hooded cloak worn or stowed depending on visibility.  Currently stowed to conceal weapons.

[b][color=#50C878]Gold Balance:[/color][/b]  49

[b][color=#50C878]Injuries:[/color][/b] None.

[b][color=#50C878]Current Emotion:[/color][/b] Adventurous.

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[center][h2][color=#50C878]Cruelty was the punchline.[/color][/h2][/center]

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The sun grew higher while his new companions treated him to a hot bath and warm meal. The air outside grew heavy as the summer heat took hold of the humid port town. Tommy’s sleeves stuck to him as he moved along with the others venturing to the docks. Momentary reprieves came as clouds blocked out the sun as they passed over, the clear sky from the morning was being eaten away by building clouds. 

 The eyes never stopped, moving so openly allowed him to be beset upon from all sides by gazes that screamed curious or calculating. Rarer to catch a look of concern or consideration, a pirate's den through and through. Tommy looked to Bastion, a tower of metal and might; now more than before he hoped that sword wasn’t just for show if they ended up needing it. 

There it was again, a feeling nagging in the back of his head. Something was missing. 

Phia, Arya, and Menzai had been so gracious and considerate, even after they saw the marks. Tommy looked at them in wonder still, this group as odd as they may be took him in with no hesitation. For that he would have to find ways to thank them, repaying this kindness would take more than words. 

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The others joined them shortly after leaving the tavern, by their demeanor it could be assumed they had found what they were looking for. Meiyu spared him a glance as they met up but she seemed far less interested in him than he thought she would be. Tommy pouted with disappointment realizing her prior interest was just a fickle display. He pondered how to get payback for the slight, what's the worst she would do, break his arm? 

They talked among themselves, their chatter was nothing Tommy had interest in. He tried to stick close to Phia but Menzai was stuck to her side, Bastion as gentle as he intended was a hazard for Tommy to walk beside, instead he took to Arya’s side holding onto her cloak as they made their way to the docks. His mind still nagged. 

What was missing? The feeling persisted neither growing nor dissipating. 

The smell took Tommy by surprise, breaking his train of thought. A cacophony of foul stench wreaked havoc on his nose. Fish guts rot along old paint and an overwhelming wave of salt and iron, a blind man might confuse this place for a sailors graveyard. 

Then there was Beckett, and his cronies as well. A man who both seemed perpetually relaxed and radiating cruelty. As if malice was a flavor of ice cream. The other two presented no better, they flanked him daring anyone to step out of line. Sat at at the end of the pier, Beckett grinning like he was waiting to deliver deliciously terrible news. Tommy moved behind Arya, preferring not to be the center of their attention. 

Tommy listened to him speak, up until the man made a strange noise and the tearing of nails forced its way into his ears. Before Tommy could react a green ball covered with torn cloth rolled past almost stopping before tumbling over the pier. A goblin? 

[center][color=1ABC9C]“Idiots, meet Trin. Trin, meet idiots.”[/color][/center]

As Beckett introduced Trin Tommy couldn't help but look down to the poor thing after he landed, everything about him radiated fear. An isolated creature that was stuck here unprotected, he felt solidarity with the Trin. This is what the prince meant when he said there was someone willing to accompany us, someone disposable, someone that could not refuse. The delight Beckett took in this exchange was grading, this man's only joy was in making others miserable. 

Peeking out towards Beckett Tommy spotted The Mercy moored just behind him, the paint used on the name clearly still fresh. Tommy felt his shoulders drop, finally accepting these pirates, despite wanting their help, would not be doing them any more favors for it. 

He buried his head into Arya’s cloak wanting to disappear inside it. His frustration was compounded by that same nagging feeling from before.

What was missing? The thought itching in his mind. 

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