OtomostheCrazy — Roleplayer Guild

Rowan Zephyr

"Well it's a good thing we're not using blades. Although I doubt I'll be able to obtain more ammo." Rowan muttered to himself.

This world was strange to Rowan, even when he has been to so many before. And given the circumstances, Neither he, nor the others will have any sort of advantage in this world. They have no information, their ship is destroyed as far as they know, they don't even have enough ammo to handle large threats. Not to mention several members of the team are either dead or comatose. They're guide is a woman wearing thin silk with only a dagger as a weapon, and considering the possible threat she just described, that's going to be a problem.

Not even a minute after his mutterings passed before Silvack spoke of fighting the Hydra. Rowan sighed as he followed the woman. This won't be good.

Bryce Achar

"...We are near the Artemian Plains, if that is what you're asking. These are lands belonging to the kingdom of Derosa."

This creature has the ability to speak, but save for a few words, it speaks nonsense. Maybe whatever happened here had affected its mind. Bryce looked out to the ocean again. The girl had not returned to check on the disturbance.

"In any case, you seem confused. You speak nonsense. Who are you?"

Seeing as te problem managed to be handled before Zephyr's acquaintance could even hang up, Zephyr cancelled the request. The acqauintance agreed to cancel the request, although she was left confused on why Zephyr had called at all. Hanging up the phone, Zephyr watched as the others made their way onto the ship. He went to join them. Several people had already split to tend to their own agendas. Zephyr decided to take a look around. See what this ship had.

There was a room with a pool table and televisions. No doubt a relaxation area. There was also a gym with paraphernalia. These rooms were fine, but Zephyr would find little use for them himself. Maybe if people were to spar with him, then the gym would be useful, but the relaxatiom area was not something he would use. As he entered the kitchen, Zephyr paused a moment and looked around. Nothing too extravagant, but the kitchen tools were usable. The knives were not dull, wooden spoons were not rotting or splintered, ladels and pots and pans did not have any grime or dents, etc.

Zephyr pivked up one of the knives and inspected it. Memories began to rise about the time before his days as a Hunter and before his days of suffering on the streets. He had worked several different jobs before, one of which was a chef. Although he was clumsy when he began, he learned how to handle some dishes, and how to cook a few of them too. He played around with the knife, tossing it into the air, catching it by the blade, and twirling it around with his fingers. He was out of practice and dropped the knife, which embedded itself into the counter.

I wonder... thought Zephyr.

He took off the robes on his upper body, there was nothing but a normal, plain shirt underneath. He kept his headpiece on to serve as a sort of hairnet. Surely no one would mind if he made use of the kitchen himself for a bit. After washing his hands he took up the knife again, and searched for a few ingredients. After a while, the kitchen began to smell of pork and ginger and rice. The canned Pork was nothing special, but it was literally the meat of the dish. By the time Zephyr had finished, he had already created several plates of Pork-ginger roasted curry using the Iingredients and process in tandem with his memory and nostalgia. One could see a hint of a grin on his face.

Still living out his nostalgia, he continued to create a soufflé, gathering the ingredients and allowing the curry to cool and release its appetizing scent throughout the ship.

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The Impatient Patience of Fulfilled Nothingness

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