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*The air is finally cooling off in the town*

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  • *The air is finally cooling off in the town*

    *In the corner of the tavern, a stoic looking created sits in contemplation. He is mulling over many many books and pages. Some, full of numbers. Others, images of mountains and streams. The largest of the books seems to contain what looks like rough drawings of the skeleton of a building, the words "Tailored Affairs" appearing in fine script at the top.*

    *He leans back in his chair, takes a sip from his tankard and wipes his forehead with his bandana. The world could be ending around him and he would likely be less the wise. Captain Flint is completely engrossed in his work.*

    Boy oh boy *He mutters, pushing his hat a little closer to the edge of the table and laying out an even larger, leather-bound book. On the spine the words "The Sea Wolves Guild" in emblazoned in flashy gold letters*

    A created's work is never done....

  • #2
    A dark masked figure walks by, dressed all in black, with a white cross on his tabard and cloak, looking at the various parchments, he looks toward Capt Flint, then feels his empty pocket, and finds a seat in a darkened corner, and drinks from his cup, having just arrived to the town

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    • #3
      *The captain takes notice of the man. He sets his hat atop his head, lowering it to where the bill covers his eyes and he focuses intently on the book in front of him. "Who is this? Another stuck up noble? Someone who thinks they are better than the rest because their cause is righteous? More than likely" he thinks and lets out a light scoff*

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      • #4
        So, says the dark masked figure, I guess that makes you Captain Flint, I have heard of you, I am Azreal Heavenborn of House Grimory. I'll be coming see you as soon as my pockets get heavier, I'll need some better weapons judging by what I see around here

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        • #5
          *Flint looks up, almost startled. Usually people do not initiate conversation with him. It is usually the other way around.*

          Huh? Oh..uh...excuse me. *shuffles some of his papers around, closing up his logs and burying his maps under other, less important looking papers*

          Grimory you say? Yes I do believe they do business with us *thumbs through his ledger* yes...right here. Well, we look forward to selling you whatever you need *points to his flyers lining the tavern walls*

          I also hope you will join us for the grand opening of Tailored Affairs. My shipmate Lucid will be throwing a HUGE grand opening party, but only if you are cool. You are cool, right? *Flint chuckles slightly as he looks around for the rest of his crew. Seems they have taken shore leave. "Good" he thinks "they need the rest."*

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          • #6
            *Flint shrugs and goes back to his duties*

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            • #7
              *The Hollowman enters the tavern and eyes the Captain curiously. He straightens himself and slowly approaches, apparently making efforts to keep himself calm. His breathing, though ragged as usual, seems slower and quieter.*

              Captain Flint. Glad to see you here. Was hopin' you and me could have a word.

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              • #8
                *The captain is suddenly shaken from his focus. He snaps his books closed quickly at the sound of the familiar voice*

                Ah, yes sir! We most certainly can! We can have this here or in my quarters, whichever you prefer!

                *He tidies up a bit and places his hat back on his head*

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                • #9
                  *Hollowman looks about conspiratorially*

                  Perhaps your quarters would be best. No one listening there, I'd hope.

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                  • #10
                    *He steps out of his seat, gathers his belongings and motions towards the door*

                    After you sir.

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                    • #11
                      *After a brief respite Captain Flint returns to his corner. He slaps all of his books, charts, maps, schematics and other doodads back on the table. A Bronze Compass and pencil seem to be his tools of choice now. He is plotting something*

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                      • #12
                        Sorry there Captain, I was lost in thought, a grand opening you say? And what determines if I'm "cool"? But it sounds like a good time I'll check with my lord to see if he needs me at that time, and if not I'd love to join your soirée.

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                        • #13
                          --A tall, bronze skin Created steps in. He's clad in black and green, with a splash of red. A rook chess piece around his neck, and an incomplete map sticking out his pocket.---

                          *The Created shivers for a moment, with a clattering sound. He then turns to survey all in the room, until seeing the Created and Zhana sitting at the table littered with documents.*

                          "Greetings Captain...."
                          *His eyes shift to the Zhana.*

                          "Oh! Azreal glad to see you made it. This forest tends to bemuse the travelers within."


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                          • #14
                            *Flint tips his hat towards the created, quickly eyeing the map sticking out of his pocket and then back to his ledger. He crosses out a few items and adds a few more*

                            No, no, that cant be right...

                            *He rips a sheet out of his big book, balls it up and throws it in the trash. He rubs his temples with the palms of his hands firmly*

                            If it ain't one thing it's always another...

                            *He looks back towards Azreal*

                            Well, To be honest sir, I am not 100% sure what dictates your cool factor. I just hear a lot of people around here checking to make sure that everyone is cool, so I assumed it was common knowledge. I would imagine not being a "narc" whatever that means would make you cool

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                            • #15
                              *He watches the trash fly towards the can, then looks back to the Captain.*
                              "I see you have a fair bit on your plate. I'll leave you to your work."

                              *Looks to Azreal*
                              "Seems the trek through the forest has left my house-mate a little stunned."

                              *He pulls out a small blue book and begins to jot down something inside. To anyone not looking at the pages, it is unclear if he is writing or drawing.*
                              "That should do it."
                              *He tears out the page, folds it up and sticks it in Azreals pocket*

                              "I'm off, I still have maps to finish."
                              .*He walks to the door, pauses, and turns back.
                              "..Oh, and once my back-log is clear... I am A'ol, sounds like the bird. Prospector for hire."

                              *He opens the door and walks out.*

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