Futuristic Allpunk - Prima Terra

It wasn't uncommon to hear the terrified screams from the "weak" on the south side of Elvenguard. Raiders were all too common and all too active here. Some didn't even bother to hide their schemes and hauls; some even boasted them. In that way, however, it made Glowrung's job easier. No one ever asked him to stop people from ruining society with crime and hatred, he just needed a way to vent out his anger for the way things turned out, even after three years of living through it. For a time, the scene would be pretty much the same: he would find a couple of humans, aliens, or whatever made up this twisted city up to no good, he would confront them, and he would right the wrong, with force more often than not. It wasn't an honorable life style, especially given his previous tasks of subtle world balance, but it was one that made small acquaintances and got him a bite to eat every now and then. Unfortunately, this changed drastically as time went on.

"Ah! Come back here!" Another scream, way too close though as a group of three obvious raiders ran around the corner straight towards Glowrung, bags in hand filled with food, merchandise, and whatever the local currency was.

"Looks like you guys have a bit too much stuff," Glowrung belted with confidence, alerting the ragtag group to his presence. "Care to give it back to their owner?"

"Piss off, freak," one of them exclaimed. "This ain't no business of yours!"

"Of course not," as yet another fight took place.

It was never fun, never without pain, but it was always easy. Regular humans almost always paled in strength compared to Glowrung. Even elves and maybe orcs were manageable. But as time went on, they got smarter. The groups got bigger, the weapons got more dangerous. And these guys would be just the candidates. These three would be no problem, but backup came too quickly. Suddenly, a militia of ten or more would come to aid, armed with bats, crowbars, foreign metallic objects, anything that can beat a man to a pulp. Even a Terra Guardian would fall to the pressure, and for the third time in two months, Glowrung would wake up under a crumbling bridge just outside the city, covered in bruises, blood, cuts, but now with no money to live with, no food to survive with, no memory of the previous night to go off of, and the depressing realization that he can no longer do this alone like he used to. He either needed to give up on this hopeless vigilante guise or he needed his own group.


A couple days of wandering hungry and tired would eventually lead Glowrung to just what he needed. Or rather, the potential for it, hanging sheepishly on a worn, wooden post.

- Adventurers are the pinnacle of the community, shining stars in the eyes of any people left
- Adventurers are usually the first to get brained in a bandit skirmish, unless there’s a merchant.
- Adventurers are… damn, not too convincing is it? Well, I mean it's honest work.
- I’ll pay you for jobs, mundane or brutal as they seem, they’ll pay accordingly
- Adventurers are what I’m looking for!

It's been so long since Glowrung had a group of people to team up with. All contacts with his fellow Terra guardians were severed shortly after the crossing, either due to the few friends he had leaving him to do their own thing or due to him deeming them no longer fit to be a decent guardian for their lack of care in attempting to fix the now broken Fate system. If this offer was legitimate, this could mean living a better life while also ensuring the protection of others and maybe even getting answers to fixing the mess that is Fate.

Glowrung would make the journey to the Northeast side of Elvenguard, and after a few hours would find his humbling destination. "Tavern of Taverns: Where Adventurers Are Made," shined bright with neon colors, making it almost impossible to miss. He steps in, is greeted with the smell of alcohol and sweat, and approaches an open seat, carefully scanning the room for either other fit combatants or for the one simply and temporarily named S. He sits sternly, but excitedly as this can be the opportunity of a lifetime, the break he needed all along. All he needed now was a bit of luck and a bit of confidence that the sign wasn't a trap.

From the top of Mother's Eye on the Mother and Child Islands, Shoneah could see the eye of the Father watching over her. What was once the greatest volcano known to history collapsed under the weight of its great populace, as Father loved all his creations and invited all to settle on his body. What was left was a ring of steep mountains, nearly impossible to summit, with a small valley on the north end. What was told to Shoneah around the campfire at night was that all the small islands of Knoton were created by Father's collapse.

You could not easily see the Eye of the Father from the highest point on the Warring Brothers Islands despite being much larger than Mother. She was told as a child that was because Father turned his back on his sons when they exploded with rage simultaneously and created many small islands around the world in the debris after centuries of fighting. But he loved the Mother too much to ever look away. When he finally collapsed at the sight of such mindless, violent creation and how his perfect world had been shattered, his surviving people flew to any island they could to create their own civilization. Some of his essence returned to Mother, and in grief and desperation to hold on to her lifemate, the Child Island was created. Hers was among the people who had been on Mother and Child Island before there was a child. Her lineage as the eighth child of royalty could be traced back to the Before Times, and much effort had been made to keep the bloodlines somewhat pure. She had no incentive to choose a lifemate among the royalty on Warring Brothers or some of the greater smaller islands, or even among the great families on her island, unlike her elder siblings. For that she was glad.

She could practically taste the wind. It was rare for anyone to make the trek to the top of the mountain outside of religious ceremony, which is why she loved it. Even the incomprehensibly large deciduous trees could not grow up here. The cold was delightful.

The world grew lighter, and faded into brightness.

*~*~*~*~*

Shoneah missed the days of having a handmaiden to wake her gently. This loud, screeching, downright painful excuse that Prima Terra humanoids used for wakefulness was in danger of being thrown against a wall any day now. But it had been years since her life on Knoton. When she first arrived to Prima Terra, she dreamed of her island nightly. Lately it had been quite a bit more sporadic. At least she didn't cry upon waking and realizing it was just a beautiful dream anymore. When the light had faded they saw nothing but what she had come to know now as desert.

Her first impression of Prima Terra was, it was nothing but dry and rocks. What few plants she saw seemed likely to draw blood. She was now grateful she had been with a harvesting party, and her second eldest brother, on their way to work, as it seemed they had all arrived together. She had never seen such land, and she hoped in the time since returning to the ocean that she never would again. They had all packed their harvest tools, a large rucksack for harvest, and a small palm leaf basket, each personally made with personal designs, full of food for the long work day. Rationing the water and food helped them live until they found a river, which they then followed to Pecos.

Much about their life in Pecos was chaos, but it was the good samaritans of the town who ultimately helped her learn the basics of English and learn some basics about how human society functioned. Ultimately when her and the harvest party had become comfortable with basic conversation, had some idea on how to reach the ocean, and had a way to get there, the party decided to go to what they learned was the Gulf of Mexico. The pastor of the local United Methodist Church offered to drive them the 7 hours to Corpus Christi in his large van. The kind people of Pecos had helped them immeasurably with nothing but the goodness in their hearts to motivate them. But that was not where they would settle.
She had eventually found New York City over a year ago, or as it was called, New Elvengard. Her shoebox of a place was basically a room with enough space for a bed, kitchenette, and bathroom, and she felt lucky to have her own bathroom after some she had looked when she finally had enough courier money. She had a job to deliver a present to an employee at a local tavern during their work hours as a surprise birthday gift from their intended lifemate. Fiance. That word. Humans put a lot of pomp and circumstance into their lifemate ceremonies. It seemed simple enough, however, so she set off on adventure.

She noted the sign advertising adventurers. The wanderlust she had been ignoring since arriving at New Elvengard over a year ago started itching. But she had a job to do, and her coffers were getting low. With a big, broad smile on her face, she entered the tavern with her beautifully wrapped gift.

“Excuse me, is there a Maddie working here?” She asked the bartender, holding up her gift with her broadest smile to indicate her intent. Her accent, while still notable, wasn't distracting from her message.

“Yeah, lemme get her,” the bartender huffed, after he had been dealing with a drunk patron with a bad joke about automaton. He went behind the counter. In her blue leather jacket, white tanktop, and tight black pants with knee-high leather boots, she almost looked like your average delivery human. But her jade green skin and tentacles were still nothing like she had seen outside of Knoton. She peered over at the drunk patron with the bad joke as she waited for Maddie, the gift recipient. She was instructed to relay a certain message. Hoping against hope this man was too drunk to remember what would come next. She hated singing messages. Her people were adept at echolocation underwater via what humans describe as whale sounds, but that didn't mean her on land voice was any good.

But they paid extra. And she had barely enough to make rent. It was hard to find steady work. She kept reminding herself of this when Maddie, the particularly tiny and particularly cute human appeared.

She handed her the present, did her little spiel about who delivered it. Maddie opened it, her eyes lit up with joy as she unearthed a little wooden guitar box. Inside were personalized guitar picks, as the guitar-playing Maddie was thrilled to announce to her boss.

“Wait, there's one more part...” Shoneah said, then felt her cheeks darken with embarrassment.

“I was asked to sing to you this song...I believe it's by this old band called The Be-”

“The Beatles! Yes! My grandparents listened to them! I love them!” Maddie shrieked.

“Alright...” Shoneah stammered, before taking a deep breath. She needed to stop accepting singing jobs.

“Oh honey pie my position is tragic
Come and show me the magic
Of your Hollywood song
You became a legend of the silver screen
And now the thought of meeting you
Makes me weak in the knee
Oh honey pie you are driving me frantic
Sail across the Atlantic
To be where you belong
Honey pie come back to me, oh-”

Shoneah was grateful to be cut off by Maddie. She was smiling from ear to ear.

“That's enough! Please let him know how much I adore him and oh my gosh he is getting the biggest hug when I get home...” Maddie was chattering happily away with her coworkers as she returned to the back.

The bartender asked, gruffly, “Is that all?” Shoneah nodded, taking a seat a little away from the drunk jokester from earlier.

“Can I have a Sprite with some grenadine?” She asked. The bartender didn't respond, just shaking his head at her relatively tame order as he was making it, then slammed it down. She threw two silver his way.

Ravi's nose wrinkled at the glass of frothy liquid that was unceremoniously placed before her. It was definitely not to her liking, but she knew that before arriving here anyway. The ale in this new world simply lacked the flavor she was attuned to. The quality of the ingredients were partly to blame. The more important factor was the lack of magic in the creation process. She gave the barkeeper a forced smile as thanks before hesitantly bringing the glass to her lips. Her face immediately twisted in disgust. The taste was torture on her tongue and swallowing this world's excuse for a beverage caused her stomach to churn. She brought the still nearly full glass back down on the bar a little too harshly, causing some of its contents to slosh and spill out. This drink definitely wasn't worth the three silver she paid. In fact she could argue it was barely worth the lint lining her pockets. She pushed the glass away with a finger as she met the understandably irritated gaze of the bartender who walked over. "On second thought, I think I'll just take water."

With a more tolerable refreshment in hand, she returns to her previous task of observing the increasing amount of patrons within the bar. The ambient noise within the tavern swells with the crowd, and her ears twitch subtly as she tries to focus on the individual sounds. There's the strangely melodic whistling of the clockwork figurine, who turns out to be alive much to Ravi's surprise. The regular creaking of the tavern's doors opening with the influx of new arrivals is a sound she's particularly attentive to. Her fingers rhythmically drum against the bar as she observes each newcomer. Most of the new arrivals seem to be human patrons. A strange viridescent humanoid catches Ravi's eye, her hair looking reminiscent of a many armed sea creature she once saw. Unfortunately, none of them appear to be the mysterious person employing adventurers. The tempo of her fingers drumming increases as her patience gradually wanes.

Above all the sounds in this tavern, a blonde man's repeated request stand out the most. Boisterous. Drunk. Somewhat lacking in manners. He appears to the gold standard of humans she encountered so far. Even so, Ravi watches him with a mixture of distaste and curiosity, her mind scrambling on how someone could continuously guzzle down the ale served here. Seeing on how he could deliver the setup to some ill-thought-out joke, she adds imprudence to the list of common human traits. Unexpectedly, the man's words actually gets a reaction from the automaton. Ravi's brows rise as the sentient figurine stands up, and she glances between the two before her eyes settle on the weapon strapped to the figurine's back.

"Oi. Drunkard. I suggest you choose your next words carefully, lest it--er--lest she turns that boomstick on you." Her advice isn't offered out of concern for the man's wellbeing, but for her own. It didn't take long to learn that these particular new world weapons were frightfully loud. The last thing she needed was another month long case of tinnitus.

The tavern that Glowrung had situated himself in wasn't too unlike the ones he visited years ago. An overall down mood occasionally broken by the various personalities that filled the establishment. The only difference now is that those personalities were much more varied given the diverse cast present, ranging from a multitude of mechanical beings to otherworldly dreams and nightmares. There were those closer to humans, but they were far from the pinnacle of interesting. It were the aliens, the cyborgs, the androids, the mystical that truly added a different experience.

However, whether filled with humans, or filled with fantastical creatures, Glowrung never found these places to be particularly enjoyable. Food was either non-existent or scarce, and even if there was food, it always managed to be sub par to anything even Glowrung could make with his lack-luster cooking skills, which is saying something. Alcohol, despite being the main attraction for the patrons, always seemed to blur the line between poison and sewage for Glowrung, never taking the best of either of them, not that there were "good traits" of either (fortunately, just before having second thoughts about his notions towards the concoction, a cyborg approached the counter and confirmed his worries for him). To top off all the reasons to not partake, places like these always seemed to either end the nights in violent fights, pointless arguments, or pathetic escorts out, all of which was just too much drama to take care of. Occasionally, a local band would play some decent music or a human would give a half-baked "comedy" show for some kind of entertainment, but it seems like even those were not supplied today, being substitute by the whistles of false joy, the whales of outdated tunes, and the crude jokes of human bigotry (though interestingly, accepted by the "victim" party).

All in all, the place was a mess, there was no tolerable substance, there was no real entertainment, and there were no friends to look after (the ones that would drag Glowrung here in the first place). The only reason to be here was to get a job, but even that was seemingly becoming less and less of a reality as the minutes turned into multiple eternities. That is, until the magic words finally resonated the building.

"ALRIGHT, WHO HERE IS LOOKING FER' JOBS, EH? IF YOU AIN'T HERE TO GET HIRED, YOU'D BEST GET GOING THEN!"

A short, gruff-looking man entered the scene and immediately changed the whole play, as characters exited stage left and the mood went from dreary to blatantly active. After his quick endeavor, all that was left in the room was Glowrung, an android, a cyborg, a... a... squid alien thing, and a human all surrounding this small hairball for a human in the middle of the room. Is this the adventuring team assembled for him? Now that's interesting.

"I'm guessing you're the one who put out that poster for adventurers? A Mr. S, at least that's all that was left in the paper. Considering I'm not in an acid trap or in the middle of a gang fight, I'll assume this is legit and am more than ready to hear your proposal."

"ALRIGHT, WHO HERE IS LOOKING FER' JOBS, EH? IF YOU AIN'T HERE TO GET HIRED, YOU'D BEST GET GOING THEN!"

Shoneah, after quite the wait, had received her drink and was just taking the first few sips when the booming voice filled the tavern. The call to adventure. She had told herself that she was looking for a new place to put up roots when she arrived at New Elvengard over a year ago. Doing the math, if she didn't continue doing as much courier work as possible until next month, she would be in hot water. Doing more math, the potential gains from an adventure could outweigh the financial risks. She had missed the community she had on the Mother Island of Knoton. Rebuilding had been difficult for someone as generally sociable as Shoneah, but she had started to see traction with neighbors and regular associates. New Elvengard, with its long tradition of welcoming new citizens of the Earth country pre-Crossing, held true to that today. It wasn't even human-specific anymore. While she still was an oddity even among the newcomers, she found her appearance was less startling to humans accustomed to the general migration into their area from people “not from around here”. She wasn't sure how things would go with her associates, but she missed feeling as though she was working with people for a greater purpose.

Her people were highly social creatures, with strong social ties and strong sense of community. There was not poverty there in the same way as this planet. There were poorer people than her, for sure, as few can count themselves among nobility. But they were provided for if they were hungry, they had stable shelter, even if it was often made from very basic materials on some available patch of land they found. It was even considered an unspoken code on her island not to dismantle abandoned shelters created for these purposes by people who could not barter for a nicer house, unless it was clear the shelter was well past its prime and long abandoned. Easier on those struggling to make ends meet to not take away available shelter. It was known that her island was so plentiful that those who starved were likely mentally or physically impaired in some fashion, and those unlucky Alsamakhans were typically sheltered by someone else anyway. Perhaps on the Warring Brothers Island, whose regular eruptions still haunted the Alsamakhans who settled there, where good land is scarce, it was common to be more competitive. When one Brother blows, the other will follow as to not appear weak. It was known. They were different than the Alsamakhans on other islands. More selfish. More like the Brothers whose violent outbursts and competition caused Father to collapse into just an eye so he could watch over Mother. It was bad luck to be born on the Warring Brothers Island, even worse luck to be raised there, and a tragedy to remain there until death.

Humans, much like the Alsamakhans of the Warring Brothers, were competitive, prone to selfishness, prone to distrust, prone to competition. It was in their differences that helped Shoneah understand the benefits to larger landmasses despite her unpleasant introduction to Earth's topography. Harder to get away from toxicity when you're on an island with little good land to build a home. Here, you could walk for many days or weeks without seeing the other side of the land, with much of it flat enough for houses but few in sight. Easier to get away from noxious influences and find a community better suited to you. Her journey up to New Elvengard showed her, though, exactly why some areas were less settled than others. Who wanted to live in a desert? Her people had no word for that land. Surely if she had hopped on a time and space machine like from that one human show she had viewed, traveled back to her island before the crossing, and started talking about deserts, she would become the town madwoman very quickly. She had no concept of what was crazy anymore.

She worried about the pros and cons of picking up and leaving on an adventure, but what little she had seen of this world's beauty had left her eager for more. Her wanting to put down roots and make currency somehow was as much a desire to have a solid home base for seeing more. Truthfully, while she liked plenty about New Elvengard, it was as much convenience and security that kept her there rather than feeling like she was among kindred spirits, or that she was a valued member of her community. Even the ramshackle hovels that the homeless of Mother and Child Island were prone to making at least had a nice ocean view and open space. Her shoebox had none of these, and was often loud inside because of neighbors and thin walls. There would be no love lost for that sorry excuse for a home.

She observed the furry short man, who looked distinct enough from humans as to probably not be one. His assumption that she was going to join the adventure by virtue of continuing to sit was presumptuous, but she was given to understand that on this planet the boss rarely did anything, so he was unlikely to join them.

“Excuse me, sir, about how far will this journey take us?” Shoneah shouted, as she wanted to be heard. A long journey was not necessarily a deterrent, but another trip through the desert might be.

Athena was by no means an expert on human men, despite being built by one, and spending a significant amount of time with them in her once-unconscious state, so their brand of humor had a habit of escaping her grasp of understanding. But this stranger's joke had her doubting what little she knew. Jokes usually had structure, and while she was used to them being much cruder (and at the expense of human women), they were at least coherent. This was somewhere between cynical defeatism and a readily servile attitude towards her kind, neither of which she found funny. But his raucous laughter said otherwise, and had she the organs to feel so, she would've found it contagious. Feeling as if she'd missed the point somehow, Athena let out a flat "Ha" and left the matter at that. She decided she wouldn't pay the blonde man any mind, but was very lightly concerned that the bystander seemed to think she was bound to act violently. Perhaps a gun case would be a good investment.

As the diminutive, simultaneously baldheaded and mop-bearded dwarf came out and commanded the crowds to part, leaving only the handful of pluck-aplenty people hoping to get signed on for something larger than themselves, the (literal) bronzed huntress looked within herself. Metaphorically. As shameful as it was, she didn't have any other skills outside of being a crack shot and keeping things looking shiny. She supposed there might be a statue or village with dirty windows that she might make a decent living cleaning, but that felt unlikely, and didn't call to her the way the promise of adventure did. The infinite amount of things she had to learn about her world had multiplied over a dozen-fold, and she'd experience none of it collecting dust in a maintenance shed. It just wasn't very conducive to her confidence to see so many people filter out of the Tavern so quickly.

The others had reservations, however minimal they were. Athena did not. In her travels, she'd gathered that the dwarves were perhaps most similarly appreciative of her world's level of technology. Steam engines, basic automata, she was a marvel of engineering to them that was theoretically within their grasp . Only problem was, she didn't know about their thoughts on magic. For all her intricate insides, only that foreign, life-bringing force made her trully alive, and to the right enthusiast, that might be considered blasphemy. There was no knowing if she'd been overheard earlier, so to play it safe, Athena would stick to playing the part of the lifeless machine. That was something she was well-practiced at.

In between the others asking questions and the dwarf answering, Athena presented arms as if she were back at the hunting grounds, and demonstrated her skill by flip-cocking her rifle (with one hand) in affirmation, as if to say "I'm ready."

What passed as witticisms in this world were truly a mystery. Unable to understand the contextual meaning on whatever a 'machine uprising' was, Ravi could only tilt her head at the man's joke. The lack of an immediate reaction from anyone within earshot and the machine's monotone utterance told her that the man's attempt at comedy had fallen flat regardless. A normal person would probably be embarrassed after receiving this response or lack thereof, but as she experienced time and time again, human's were wholly unpredictable and this man was no exception. The man's fit of laughter was a head scratcher, and Ravi was unsure on whether she felt amused or befuddled by the sight of it. A sudden smirk formed on her face as a snarky remark came to mind, and she was ready to open her mouth and say it when a booming voice filled the tavern.

ALRIGHT, WHO HERE IS LOOKING FER' JOBS, EH? IF YOU AIN'T HERE TO GET HIRED, YOU'D BEST GET GOING THEN!"

The words she had been eagerly anticipating; its source none other than a dwarf. The stocky man didn't have a familiar face but he was part of a familiar race, and simply looking at his compact form caused the demi-human to feel a tinge of nostalgia. The last time she could recall encountering a dwarf was before multiple realities coalesced into one. The good ole days when life was simple and she didn't have to guess when the next meal was coming. A peaceful time when entrepreneurial dwarves would trade their metalwork for her kind's magically grown grain and spices. A pleasant time when scholarly elves who ventured into their forest exchanged their studies on magic with that of the demi-humans. Even now, seeing a dwarf or an elf (as arrogant as they tended to be) filled her with a sense of security. It assured her that at least some part of this irrational world still made sense. The faint smile she had unknowingly been wearing while reminiscing gradually faded. This was the first time she had become aware of the latent homesickness that stirred within her, and the realization caused her to feel something akin to mild concern.

Abandoning her thoughts, Ravi found that the tavern too had been largely abandoned except for a handful of distinct people looking for adventure. For herself, becoming an adventurer was primarily out of a desire for a steady income. Coinage didn't guarantee survival, but it certainly made it easier to do so. It meant she could sleep with a full belly in an actual bed. She looked down at her metal arm, lightly flexing it as she did so. It was composed of parts beyond her understanding, but it didn't take a cyberneticist to understand that it would eventually require maintenance, another expensive thing in this world that this job would cover. After some additional mental deliberation, the life of an adventurer was probably less hazardous than other professions that employed her skillset, which at this point had largely devolved into violence.

"Consider me at your service, boss."

The confirmation of legitimacy was music to Glowrung's ears. He's been subject to far too many traps in the past, but now the tension seemed to fly away instantly as the convo between the smaller, hairier human continued. To top it off, not only was the offer real, but the rest of the team also seemed to be on board and were equally equipped and adequate. The situation actually became more and more exciting.

The mission itself was a bit of a downer, however. A simple delivery mission, even with danger along the path, was a far cry from doing actual good and making the current world a better place from the mess that it currently was. Glowrung would've loved to have a team to start small with New Elvenguard and it's populus, reestablishing order locally, and setting examples for even farther areas, but that didn't seem to be the case. But, perhaps, this is just an introductory mission to gain the trust of the quest giver. The cargo definitely seemed important enough to be so, and while the city of Toh'Rhan'O was unfamiliar to Glowrung, Canada definitely is (perhaps the man even meant to say Toronto with his thick accent) and the journey to get there is definitely long and dangerous, especially without a plane, a teleporter, or anything really to make a 2 week total journey shorter. Glowrung had only visited a few times before the merge and hasn't gone too much farther than the outskirts of New Elvengard since, only out of necessity or to follow leads on the Fate system.

Despite the worries though, the biggest attraction was the rest of the party. If they didn't seem excited about it, it would have been misery and a wasted time. But, with their current enthusiasm and the great potential for the future, this job should be nothing but smooth sailing and a decent paycheck at the end of the day.

"A 'delivery' job isn't what I had in mind, but if the cargo is so special, I'd be glad to help, of course for the right amount. But I trust you enough for that, and I hope you'll trust us to do the job well." Glowrung turns to his new party members, taking note of the obviously drunk human. "It looks like we'll all be working together on this. Glad to be apart of a (mostly) functioning team. The name's Glowrung by the way."

Athena listened to the stubby one defend his stubbiness to the drunkard, confused by the biological emotion known as vanity. She saw no rhyme or reason for any insecurity in one's genetics, but understood that she was in a very different boat. She was vaguely femininely shaped, had a still face one might consider beautiful, and was pattered all over with her version of tattoos, and yet, knew that she could never be considered attractive in the conventional sense. The fact that she wasn't inherently upset with this knowledge in turn upset her, but she shoved the thoughts aside when their solicitor began to discuss their job.

Naturally, her first real adventure would be something as dull as courier work. She could picture it now, her, perched up on the snowcapped hills with her rifle, tailing and watching over the rest of the group as they passed through supposed "angry territories" in the north. The terrain alone was going to be a nightmare. Balance wasn't a problem, even with her heel-shaped feet, but trudging through any height of snow would slow the group significantly. Between the snail's pace they'd be stuck going, and the presumed silence of a bunch of strangers doing a job together, it all sounded like almost more trouble than their reward would be. That is, until the drunk posed an interesting question. Pocketing the goods and selling them by themselves. Obviously the dwarf advised against it, but he was the one offering the job. And Athena not being in it for the money, considered how much more interesting her adventures would be if she was being pursued by some form of law enforcement. The life of a scoundrel sounded infinitely more exciting than that of some pompous merchant lord's carrier of errands! Only, she had doubts about her companions' willingness to throw caution to the wind. All their agreeing and questioning came off as awfully servile to the automaton, leading her to assume these people cared very much about being morally good people. How boring.

Ravi couldn't help but lightly chortle to herself in response to the spectacle before her. It appeared her vertically challenged boss was sensitive about his height, and she made a mental note to be more tactful around him. The job the dwarf presented was little more than escorting cargo. Although it was a simple assignment, Ravi found their first mission to be acceptable enough. It was hard to a screw up a basic deliver mission after all, and it was easy earnings assuming things went without a hitch. The prospect of traveling through the unfamiliar territory of the surrounding wildlands to an even more unfamiliar city did dampen her enthusiasm somewhat. Considering that New Elvengard had already established itself as the northmost city in Ravi's mental map (which was only composed of the United States eastern coast) , this meant Toh'Rhan'O would be in the northern north. She had heard tales of a snowscaped land in the far north, a land blanketed in white that was surprisingly difficult for her to envision. Of course it wasn't hard to imagine the cold that would accompany it. Perhaps investing in more insulated clothing isn't such a bad idea.

She folded her arms. This wouldn't be her first venture into the unknown, and at least time she would have a capable looking group journeying with her. The machine with her boomstick would more than likely be able to handle her own. The amphibious woman and the azure haired human exhibited a decree of competence as well. The drunkard caused a series of alarms to sound off in her head and she had to wonder how desperate the dwarf was to hire the man. Maybe he'd appear more reliable when he wasn't so inebriated.

"Cargo this. Cargo that. Mind telling us what exactly this mysterious cargo is? Or who the contact is for that matter?" Ravi asked, her tone respectful. Upon realizing that the azure haired man had introduced himself, she quickly addressed everyone. "Ah. Name's Ravi. Pleasure to meet y'all."

The “precious cargo,” now sitting in a bag on the table in front of Glowrung, unfortunately remained a mystery. Interestingly enough though, the “dwarf” never said that the group couldn’t examine the contents of the leather parcel. Only that it must reach the endpoint successfully. Was this package really a secret or was it just really valuable? Perhaps it’s more valuable to these “dwarf” people than to humans, robots, or aliens. It really must not be worth the group’s time to steal it then. But then again, the money sounded serious even for smaller human terms, and the consequences of theft seemed dire from the quest-giver’s tone. The mystique and value of it all is something Glowrung definitely wants to investigate sooner or later, either by just looking in the bag or having someone else appraise the contents.

Beyond that though, even more questions began to arise in Glowrung’s head, mainly on the “dwarf” people. It was a funny word, “dwarf.” It wasn’t an unfamiliar word, but Glowrung never used it to refer to a group of people, only to humans who severely lacked in height (which the “dwarf” man clearly was), and even then, most took offense to the word as far as he knew, as most shorter individuals didn’t like being called short (as the current victim clearly was). To Glowrung, the man was still just a smaller, hairier human, but it seems that there’s a whole new world of people and culture for Glowrung to explore. If all of them were as bombastic yet secretive at the now absent quest-giver, this mission would definitely see some highlights towards the end.

The other big question to be answered were the intentions of the group Glowrung was now paired with. While all of them seemed to be good-willed, surely they all have the same questions and concerns as Glowrung. After all, this rag-tag delivery group just formed and (as far as Glowrung knows) no one really knows anyone here. What were the lives of these newly knighted mercenaries before this calling? A robot doesn’t just happen upon a rifle without a backstory, and the squid in the room could probably fill an entire historian’s journal with her tales. Perhaps an icebreaker can help to gauge the room a bit.

Glowrung takes the payload and steps outside to be met by the blonde drunkard now seemingly sober and actually invested in the endeavor, given his haste to get started. An interesting shift to say the least. It was almost shocking.

“I wouldn’t say I’m in charge of the cargo, but I picked it up. Also, I don’t think we’re in too much of a rush, are we? The… “dwarf” said he didn’t really care when we left. Sooner is better than later though.” Glowrung turned to the more interesting side of the group. “What do you guys think?”

While a simple gesture to get the party involved, Glowrung especially wanted to make a good impression this time around. While small, this was still a mission that could lead to a better future for both him and the area around. Anything to get on the good side of his new fellow travel members was a plus.