HP: 1697/1697 | MP: 1607/1607 | SP: 1726/1726
While they waled to the Mora-Sho clan recruitment office Raime kinda wished he suggested them to join with the Ryoku-jo earlier. Seeing as the rest of the group had easily agreed with Klein to join the weaker clan, he could have just as easily suggested to the group that they join the side with the winner of the Rinkan Annihilation Tournament and steampunk power armored samurai with chainsawkatanaguns. Eh, pointless to whine about what is already done. But it really didn't surprise him. The group had a knack for getting into situations where the odds were heavily stacked against them...the one armed man just hoped that their decision to work with the Mora-Sho would be a lucrative one at the very least. If they were going to fight for the losing side of this war, the clan should at least give the players who sided with them compensation for trying.
"I guess?" Raime replied to Ames' comment regarding the dancing skeletons. It was a rather macabre sight in his realistic perspective, but he guessed there was something akin to gap moe or something. The sign berating those who didn't join the clan of necromancers got a brief chuckle out of the man. He should have known that a number of hardcore gamers would welcome the hardcore difficulty that came with joining the Mora-Sho clan with open arms. He'd soon focus his attention to the Yam man that asked them if they were here to fuck shit up. "Depends. Got any work for semi-reliable sellswords like us?" Raime says while he tried to rack his mind into remembering this tuber shaped fellow.