tenmachi
We don't talk about the other nine
I'm really loving Snubnose for her style in this. She has the "It must be borne, so we're going to have some fun with it!" vibe and I am just 100% here for it.
Weary Wanderer (Final Fantasy 14/Worm Crossover) [Complete]
- Thread starter SmartAlek
- Start date
-
- Tags
- ffxiv final fantasy worm
I'm really loving Snubnose for her style in this. She has the "It must be borne, so we're going to have some fun with it!" vibe and I am just 100% here for it.
Man i dont get the logic that they suspect him releasing siberian with him being the one beat all of s9. Also, isn't there some a case for dimesional traveler alien in PRT book? Did they just shrugs him of being dimensional traveler?
- Location
- new york
She brings trouble to his feet like a wide broom sweeping leaves into a pile
- Location
- Te Ika-a-Māui
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I'm kinda surprised none of them went "what if she's a projection", tbh.
Fellow Human
Verified Roado Rolla
At this point I don't even wanna know mental gymnastics fans who actually read the whole Worm go trough to explain this shit.
I like to think the fact Azem has no issue with collecting 96 million dollars is a reference to the fact that in ffxiv money is extremely inflated. Hell, you're not considered well off until you're in the tens of millions of gil.
- Location
- Australia
Acusing him of releasing the Siberian seems like a complete failure of mental faculties. Like your brain would have to shit the bed completely to immediately jump to that conclusion. Siberian being teleported by a third party or being a projection or something would be a more logical conclusion.
Now we have to wonder if Manton woke up straight away or not, or will wake up at all. Because he could send Siberian after the town before going after Azem.
Now we have to wonder if Manton woke up straight away or not, or will wake up at all. Because he could send Siberian after the town before going after Azem.
- Location
- Deep inside the sand
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
This was a fantastic beginning. I'm looking forward to your next chapter!
Public Relations
- Location
- Arizona
Chapter Five: Public Relations
Jake was new to the PRT's PR department. Actually, Jake was new to... PR. In general. He'd just recently graduated college with a degree in communication, which wasn't exactly the same as Public Relations, but was close enough, right?
Anyway, he was definitely the newbie here, and that was, he was sure, the reason why he'd been nominated to talk to Snubnose and her independent hero friend. The PR department did not like Snubnose, and Jake – along with everyone else – was certain that her friend would be just as bad.
"He needs help deciding on a mask," Snubnose had said, which, given that 'Azem' was wearing one of the disposable domino masks the PRT kept on hand, was clearly true.
But Azem wasn't making it easy, either, given the rest of the outfit Jake had to work with. He was deeply tempted to tell Azem to just go with a full knight-looking helmet and call it a day, but, unfortunately, they were supposed to encourage heroes away from full face-covering masks. It made them more approachable and human if part of their face was visible, or something.
Jake stole one of the official consultation rooms though this was not, strictly speaking, an official consultation. The others could come and stop him.
Dropping his notebook on the table, Jake flopped into one of the seats on the far side from the door and gestured for Azem to take a seat on the other side. After a moment, Azem sat in one of the chairs with a graceful swish of his cape. The most elegant way Jake had ever seen any cape avoid sitting on their literal cape, so clearly this guy had some experience – or was at least used to wearing a cape. Snubnose pulled out the chair next to Azem and carefully perched herself on it. Jake couldn't help but eye the movement nervously. He knew her power allowed her to negate gravity on her suit, but it was still absolutely ridiculous and concerning to see her settle herself on a flimsy little metal-frame chair.
He tried to meet Azem's eyes and not look in Snubnose's direction.
"All right, what are you thinking for a mask? Do you have any ideas?" Jake asked, flipping open his notebook. He could take notes, maybe make a few sketches – he'd almost gone to art school before his parents vetoed that, so he wasn't too bad.
"I have a number of masks already," Azem said. "But I don't know what would be appropriate."
"Oh, okay." A little disappointed, Jake flipped his notebook shut. "Do you have them on you?"
Azem nodded.
"In that case, why don't you show me a few that you like, and I can give some suggestions," said Jake.
Azem paused. Snubnose looked over at him eagerly. Jake waited. Finally, Azem nodded and withdrew something from a – pouch at his waist. Was that there before? Suddenly Jake wasn't sure.
With a lack of hesitation that was surprising given the long pause from before, Azem removed the domino mask he was wearing – Jake averted his eyes politely, though it wasn't like it had covered much – and affixed a new mask to his face. Jake couldn't help a shocked, spluttering snort of laughter. Snubnose, meanwhile, just burst out laughing shamelessly.
Azem's choice of mask was... a blindfold. It was a fancy blindfold, sure, made of some sort of velvety-looking material and with one side longer to curve down Azem's cheek in a way that made it almost artistic, but at the end of the day, it was a blindfold.
"Can- can you even see?" Jake asked helplessly. That was a dumb question. "I mean, can you fight like that?"
Azem nodded. In answer to which question, Jake didn't know.
"Really?" he said, then shook his head. "No, it doesn't matter. It's just not a good idea."
"Even if people don't get the wrong impression, they'll definitely make all of the jokes about it," Snubnose said.
"Yeah..." Jake agreed. Fortunately, Azem didn't look bothered by this consensus. "Do you have any other options? Maybe more, um, mask-like?"
Azem tilted his head to one side, but nodded. He removed the blindfold and replaced it with –
Jake made an embarrassing, strangled noise. Snubnose snickered.
– a red mask that covered the top half of his face, covered in elaborately traced lines of color... with six horns sticking off of it in varying sizes and directions. It was almost exactly what Jake might have drawn if asked to design an evil demon mask – albeit a bit fancier with the patterns.
"Um, okay," Jake squeaked. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the embarrassment of that noise. "Er, that's a bit..."
"Evil-looking?" said Snubnose, still snickering.
"Well. Yes," Jake said apologetically. "Maybe something without the... horns?"
Once more, Azem nodded. Switched to a new mask. Jake put his head in his hands.
"Are you doing this purpose?" he asked desperately over the sound of Snubnose cackling. At least somebody was enjoying this.
Azem tilted his head, almost confused or innocent – except for the plague doctor's mask on his face! Literally! With the beady-eye glasses and the beaked nose! The only thing that softened the look was the inexplicable top hat it was paired with. Also, it completely clashed with his otherwise-knight look.
"...No. Not this one either?" said Azem.
"Not that one either!" Jake burst out, then sighed. "It's a bit, um, scary-looking. How about something more approachable? Less severe?"
Azem nodded yet again. Jake was beginning to lose hope that that meant Azem had understood. Azem switched to a new mask. Yet again, it drove Snubnose to laughter.
This time, though, she pulled herself together long enough to gasp out, "Oh, this one. I like this one," before devolving back into laughter.
It was... a belly dancer's mask. That was the only way Jake could think of to describe it. It covered the lower half of Azem's face – in theory. In practice, the sheer fabric only gave the suggestion of hiding anything at all. Not to mention, it was an absolutely ridiculous look on a tall, broad, stubbled man. Jake thought that the look might be ruined forever for him. He couldn't even bring himself to say anything.
"Okay, okay, I think I can address this one," Snubnose said, still chuckling a bit. "It doesn't really count as a mask if it doesn't cover anything. Your whole face is still visible."
Azem took a moment to think about that, and, yes, again, he nodded. He switched masks again.
Jake put his head down on the desk. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go to art school.
"No, really, are you doing this on purpose?" Snubnose asked, sounding highly entertained.
If Azem was doing it on purpose, Jake bet Snubnose held nothing but appreciation for the bit, because she was evil. He understood now why none of the others liked her.
The latest mask looked kind of like the mask from the Phantom of the Opera – curse Jake's mom for bringing him to watch that show on Broadway and inflicting it on him – except not plain white. It covered a quarter of Azem's face, just the area around one eye, and it was a gleaming, metallic silver, with a lens to make the eye look red and cyborg-like.
"I'm not. Is this one bad too?" said Azem.
Snubnose laughed. "Yeah, a little bit! The red eye is a smidge too much if you ask me. If I saw a villain wearing that mask, I'd call them a try-hard."
"Even green or purple would be better," Jake said, muffled into the table. "Why red?"
"Plus, it also doesn't really cover enough of your face," Snubnose said. "I think about half is usually the go-to. Either top or bottom half. But at least a third is probably necessary."
Jake didn't see it, but he would bet good money that Azem nodded. Again.
There was a vague rustling noise, and then Snubnose let out a disappointed noise. "Aw, that one's actually not bad," she said.
Jake lifted his head to look so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. To call it 'not bad' was a little generous, he felt, but compared to the other options, it was probably fair. Azem was now wearing a full face mask that looked like pale wood, with black eyeshadow-like markings at the corners of the eerie round eye holes and black lines trailing down the cheeks like artistic tear trails. The overall look was pretty creepy, Jake would say, but much less blatantly evil than some of Azem's other choices.
"It's a little creepy," Jake said. "And it would be better if it didn't cover your whole face."
From a PR perspective, it was a bit of a shame for somebody as good-looking as Azem to not take advantage of his handsome face. They could sell so many posters just on the selling point of Azem's rugged good looks alone. If he was a Protectorate hero, anyway.
Unlike Jake, it seemed that Azem wasn't worn down at all by their failures. He nodded, yet again, and took the mask off. The next mask was –
"Not bad," Jake found himself saying aloud.
It was still a bit creepy, but not to the same extent. This one was a half-mask covering the top of Azem's face yet again, but without the terrifying horns. It was black, as well, a much more neutral color than the dark reds of before, and had elongated eye-holes rather than the eerie round ones of the previous mask. There was still some kind of lens in the eye-holes to give the look of a black void rather than visible eyes, but that was hardly even a problem compared to some of Azem's other masks. The nose arched down in a somewhat intimidating beak, but Azem pulled it off well, with his strong jawline. The gilding along the top of the mask and the bottoms of the eyes softened the mask's overall impression considerably, as well.
One side of the mask, Jake noted, even had a little chain of beads hanging, which was almost cute.
"Ooh, this one is cool," Snubnose said. "Probably the coolest one so far."
"And it doesn't even make you look like a villain!" Jake added, feeling perhaps a bit too enthusiastic about it. Still a bit edgy, but some heroes went for that. "I mean, I definitely think you could go with this one."
"It's got my vote," Snubnose said. "It should even work with your other outfits reasonably well." She snickered. "Well, maybe not the pink one, but I don't think anything is going to work with that one."
Other outfits? Jake wondered. Pink one? But he wasn't brave enough to ask.
"I could dye it," said Azem. "Pink or white?"
Snubnose laughed. "Oh my God, I would love to see that, please do. I want to say pink, but I think white will probably look better."
Azem nodded, and then there was an eye-searing flash of light, so bright it made Jake yelp and close his eyes. When he warily peeked out, Azem had completely changed his outfit, and suddenly the things Snubnose had said made sense. The other outfits. The pink one.
Now Azem was wearing what Jake would have called a dress if it had been a woman wearing it, all white and pink and frilly. The same mask he'd been wearing before was now white instead of black.
The mask was a little too edgy for the otherwise very cute outfit, but it didn't look bad. It didn't look bad together, that was. The outfit was still overwhelmingly feminine and honestly very strange to see on somebody as overwhelmingly masculine as Azem. Jake wasn't sure how to feel about this.
He knew one thing for sure, though.
"Well, it seems to me like the mask is working pretty well!" he declared. "Was there anything else you wanted advice on?"
Please say no. Please.
Azem looked at Snubnose, who tapped thoughtfully at her chin – or the vague area on her helmet's faceplate that should be her chin – with a series of quiet clanking sounds.
"No, I guess that's it," she said thoughtfully, and sighed, seeming almost disappointed. Probably at the inability to further mess with me, Jake thought bitterly. "Thanks for your advice, Jake. Azem, I guess that means you can go now. Just don't go too far! You wouldn't want to miss out on your bounty money."
Azem nodded, and they both rose from their seats. Jake hadn't even said anything in response, hoping with bated breath that they were going to leave now, but it didn't seem to matter. Azem nodded at him, and then followed Snubnose from the room.
"I'll show you out, all right? We need to turn your badge back in at the front desk, too," Snubnose was saying as they went.
At long last, the door closed behind them.
Jake all but collapsed into a puddle of relief and joy. The most harrowing moment of his career, and he'd survived it. He was safe.
Allison glanced up automatically as the elevator dinged to a stop on the first floor and opened, then straightened up when she registered the hulking form of Snubnose, and standing next to her, the much less physically impressive form of Traveler. It seemed that Traveler had decided on a proper mask in the time since she'd last seen them, and oh no, he was hot.
It wasn't that she hadn't already known, objectively, that Traveler was good-looking. It was just that the ugly disposable domino mask he'd been wearing before had seriously detracted from any looks he had, so it was easy to ignore his fantastic jawline and nice lips. This new mask was not only a neutral effect, but a positive one: it accentuated said jawline and lips, while also showing off his cheekbones. The cheekbones. They weren't anything to write home about, but they were. They were very present.
Between the face and the shoulders and the billowing cape, Allison could easily see this guy on one of those Protectorate posters that had the Triumvirate and some other well-known Protectorate leaders. Not that the people in those posters were chosen for looks, but... Well, if they had been, this guy belonged there.
Allison desperately suppressed a blush. She was not going to make a fool out of herself over a cape. Why did he have to be her type!?
The pair of capes walked up to Allison.
"Hey, Allison! Azem here's on his way out," Snubnose said. "Come to think of it, I am too. I deserve a day off after this."
Traveler – or, Azem? Snubnose had said Traveler before, though – silently held out the visitor's badge she'd given him before.
"Oh, thank you," Allison said automatically, then winced. Why did she say that. He was returning something. It wasn't even her personal property. "Wait, don't forget, I still need to get a picture of you. For your official ID."
Actually, could she get away with sneaking a copy...? No. No, that would be creepy. Allison was not going to allow herself to fall to such depths. Traveler wasn't even that handsome.
"Right, forgot about that," Snubnose said while Traveler nodded.
"It's not a big deal," Allison assured habitually. "If you'll just come with me, we can get it done quickly, and then you'll really officially be registered as an independent hero."
Allison led Traveler into one of the back rooms – Snubnose waited at the front desk, making a big show of how bored she was despite the fact that it had been less than a minute. This particular back room was small and cluttered, with one of those walls with a camera in it that were common to the DMV and a cheap little desk, completely different from the sleek, elegant emptiness of the lobby. It was the only place they actually had to take ID-style pictures, and it only allowed for one at a time, but that was fine, because Allison couldn't even remember the last time they'd had an independent hero come in to register officially, much less two at the same time.
"Stand on the 'x' and face the camera, please," Allison said.
Traveler moved over to do as she asked without comment, which was a little unnerving if she was being honest. It was more noticeable how quiet he was without Snubnose around. Allison triggered the camera once Traveler was standing in place, arms straight at his side and looking directly at the camera. He didn't smile, but Allison figured that was a deliberate choice. She triggered the camera, snapping a picture, and of course, the absolute jerk, he was photogenic too.
"Great, that's all I needed," she said as cheerfully as she could manage when she was choking under the weight of mingled lust and envy. "We can head back out now."
Traveler waited until Allison headed for the door, then followed at a polite distance.
You know you're doomed when you start wishing the hot guy would loom a little, Allison thought gloomily.
She sat back down in her chair at the front desk and finished up Traveler's file, attaching the picture she'd taken to it.
"That took forever," Snubnose was grumbling over-dramatically. "I thought I was going to fall asleep right here standing up!"
"There we go, all done!" Allison said brightly. "You're all set, sir. Thank you for registering with the PRT! Unfortunately, you'll have to come back to get your official hero ID, unless you'd like to give me a mailing address."
That was unlikely, but a mailing address wasn't necessarily a home address, and it wasn't unheard of for independent heroes to have openly-known PO boxes.
Traveler shook his head.
"He doesn't have anything like that," Snubnose said, sounding oddly amused. "He is going to have to come back to get his bounty money, though, so it should work out, right?"
Snubnose nudged Traveler, who nodded.
"Great. All right, I'm seriously thinking I'm going to go home and get some sleep," Snubnose said. "Azem, you'll be fine on your own, right?"
Traveler – Azem? Allison hoped she wasn't getting his name wrong – nodded.
"All right, cool," said Snubnose. "See you around then. Don't be a stranger, okay?"
Traveler nodded again, looked from Snubnose to Allison, then turned to leave.
"Er, have a nice day," Allison called after him hurriedly, caught off guard by the quick departure.
Traveler kept walking.
"Man, what a weird guy," Snubnose said.
Allison found herself nodding. Weird was the best word.
"I wonder where he's gonna go," Snubnose continued.
"What do you mean?" Allison asked, giving her a funny look. Where did any cape go? Back home in their civilian identity.
Snubnose shrugged. "Eh, nothing much, it's just that he's not from around here, so he probably doesn't have a place to go," she said.
"Oh. Do you think it'll be a problem?" Allison asked, frowning.
"No idea!" Snubnose said in an inappropriately cheerful voice. "He seemed pretty confident, so hopefully the good city of Seattle hasn't gained a new superpowered homeless person."
Allison pictured Traveler sitting at the side of the road with a sign. Veteran of the Slaughterhouse Nine, please donate. He'd probably do it with a straight face, too.
She said as much to Snubnose, who laughed.
"I think we'll be lucky if that's all he does," Snubnose said, and Allison couldn't help but feel that was a bit... ominous.
Maddie sniffled quietly. She wasn't going to cry, because she was a big girl, and big girls didn't cry. But, well, she didn't know where her mom was, and she was cold, and she was getting hungry, and her ankle hurt, and she didn't know where she was, either.
She had just wanted to look at the sparkly dress in the shop window. Then, the next she knew, her mom was nowhere to be seen. Maddie couldn't tell where Mom went. She tried to catch up – she knew where they were going – but she didn't see Mom anywhere, and then she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere or something, because now she had no idea where she was. She'd never been here before, and she didn't remember how to get back, and now she was never going to find her Mom or get the pizza she'd been promised they were having for dinner–
And then she'd tripped and now she couldn't even stand or walk so she was just going to waste away here on the sidewalk–
"Hey," said a voice from somewhere above her.
Maddie yelped and startled enough to jar her ankle painfully, her head snapping up to look at the speaker. It was a man. A big, scary man. She froze and stared. What did she do? None of the strangers on the street had acknowledged her so far. She wasn't sure how to handle this. Mom said not to talk to strangers.
This stranger looked kinda like the hero from one of her fairy tales, though, in shining armor and a white cape. When he saw her looking back at him, he crouched down to her level. Maddie usually didn't like it when adults did that – she didn't need them to! – but in this case it was kinda nice because he was very tall and now he was less tall and scary. He was crouching pretty far away from her, so she didn't think he'd be able to grab her very easily now.
"Are you Maddie?" the man asked.
How did he know her name? Still staring with wide eyes, Maddie nodded slowly. The man's lips curved up in a tiny smile.
"Your mother, Megan, sent me to get you," he said. "She's very worried."
"You talked to my mom?" Maddie blurted, leaning forward. Was she saved? She didn't know where her mom was, but if the man did–!
The man nodded. "I can bring you to her," he said.
"Yes!" Maddie rocked forward to stand, forgetting about her injured ankle, and yelped again, this time in pain, when she put weight on it and it shrieked in pain.
She fell forward, unable to keep herself upright, only to be caught by surprisingly gentle metal-gloved hands. The man clasped her shoulders for a moment, keeping her from falling on her face, then adjusted his grip so he could pick her up and put her back down on her butt like she'd been sitting before. Maddie whined a little at the renewed pain in her ankle, a few tears making their way down her cheeks despite her best efforts. It hurt!
"Where does it hurt? Your ankle?" said the man.
Maddie nodded, sniffling, and lifted her right leg towards him. He obligingly took a gentle hold on her leg to keep it in the air, peering at her ankle.
"I tripped and hurt it," she admitted miserably.
The man nodded. "I can heal it," he offered.
Maddie gasped. "You're a superhero?" she said, shocked and amazed. She'd never met a superhero before! That explained the outfit and the mask, though. She'd wondered if he was just at a con – concession? One of the places people dressed up even though it wasn't Halloween. But him being a superhero made sense too.
The man nodded again, after a weird pause. "Close your eyes," he said.
Maddie didn't know why, but maybe that was just how it worked, so she squeezed her eyes shut. After a moment, the man's grasp on her leg changed, as he held her foot in one hand and the other stopped touching her. Curious, Maddie opened one eye to peek, and immediately gasped. His whole outfit had changed! Cool! He looked like a wizard now. The hand he wasn't using to hold her leg up, he held over her throbbing ankle, and a soft white light poured down. It didn't feel like much, maybe a little warm and ticklish, and Maddie couldn't help but twitch a little, but in just a couple of seconds, her ankle felt better.
That was so cool!
"Mister, are you magic?" Maddie asked enthusiastically as the man set her leg down on the ground.
The man nodded.
Okay, he was officially Maddie's new favorite hero. Sorry Alexandria, but the magic! And her ankle didn't hurt anymore!
"That's so cool," she breathed.
The man gave her another small smile, then held his hand out as though offering to pull her to her feet. Maddie flexed her ankle warily, then when it still didn't hurt, took the hand and let him pull her up. And her ankle still didn't hurt, even with her standing on it! Magic was the best. Maddie wished she could do magic.
The man straightened back to his full height, which was really very tall, but Maddie didn't think he was scary anymore.
"Can you take me back to my mom now?" she said.
The man nodded, so Maddie grabbed his hand to hold. That way she wouldn't get separated from him. He gave her kind of a funny look for that, so probably he didn't spend much time with kids, but didn't say anything, just turned to lead her down the sidewalk.
Maddie had no idea where they were going as they twisted and turned through the streets, but fortunately the man seemed confident, until finally Maddie spotted her mom, on the phone and looking upset.
"Mom!" she cried, letting go of the man's hand to dash forward.
"Oh, there she is!" Mom said to whoever was on the phone before letting it fall away from her ear as she held her arms out towards Maddie. "Maddie!"
Maddie barrelled straight into Mom's arms, but Mom didn't seem to mind, just caught her and held her close.
"Oh, Maddie. Maddie, baby. You're safe now, it's okay, Mom's got you," Mom was murmuring into her hair.
It seemed like forever before Mom put her down, but Maddie didn't mind. She was happy just being held, warm in Mom's arms. Well... okay, maybe she kind of wanted that pizza. She was hungry. But being hugged was nice too.
Finally, Mom set Maddie back on the ground, but stayed kneeling with her, and was patting at Maddie's hair and stuff. Normally, Maddie would complain, because she wasn't a baby, but just this once it was okay. Then Mom looked up at somebody behind Maddie, and she twisted to see.
Oh, right! It was the man. The wizard healer superhero. Maddie had almost forgotten about him. He was standing away from them, not really that close.
"You found her. Thank you," Mom said, and the man nodded in response.
"Thanks, Mr. Wizard Hero!" Maddie said. "What's your name? You're my new favorite hero!"
He gave that little smile. "I'm Azem."
"Azem?" Maddie repeated. "That's a cool name! It sounds like a wizard's name! You're a wizard, right? Hey, Mom, he healed my ankle with magic! Isn't magic awesome?"
By the time Maddie looked up again, done explaining the wonders of magic to Mom, Azem was gone. That was disappointing, but Maddie supposed magic wizard heroes were pretty busy.
Jack was dead.
The rest of the Slaughterhouse too, but Jack was the important one. Jack had been the leader. It hadn't been a bad way to spend the time, following Jack around so that his daughter could have her fun.
Now William didn't know what to do.
His daughter had her own ideas, of course. Some of them were good ones, too. The interloper who'd killed Jack had to be punished, after all. She wanted to tear out his insides and devour them while he was still alive. William wouldn't deny his daughter her bloody vengeance, but he was more focused on the logistical aspects of it. How to find the interloper, for one.
There hadn't been any news articles about the interloper yet, nor any posts online regarding him. That left William only one option if he wanted to begin tracking the interloper down as soon as possible for his dear daughter, who grew impatient already: the assumption that the nearest PRT district had sent a Protectorate hero. Even if the interloper hadn't returned to their district with them, they would have more information on him. That was William's best bet. It wouldn't be easy to get the information, but he had faith in his daughter.
To the nearest PRT district it was, then.
To Seattle.
To get revenge.
- Location
- Deep inside the sand
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
I guess its a good thing that Azem will be staying in Seattle so Manton will not go causing chaos too long.
Just Your Average Seattleite
- Location
- Arizona
Chapter Six: Just Your Average Seattleite
Mark strode into his favorite neighborhood convenience store.
"Hey, Mrs. Nguyen," he said, yawning. He'd been up for what felt like forever, and was actually probably more like twenty-six hours, but he still had four to go before he could go to sleep at a regular hour. That was why he had come in search of caffeine.
Then he paused. Took a step back. Looked more carefully at the person behind the counter.
It was not Mrs. Nguyen. In hindsight, he wasn't sure how he'd mistaken the person for Mrs. Nguyen, considering that literally everything was wrong: the person was not small, old, Asian, or a woman. It was a tall, broad, white man in his thirties. Also, the guy was wearing a beaked half-mask and literal metal armor under the blue apron like the one Mrs. Nguyen usually wore.
"You're not Mrs. Nguyen," Mark said dumbly. He wasn't sure how to react.
He could have accepted that Mrs. Nguyen had hired help, if not for the fact that this guy was so strange!
"I'm helping out. Mrs. Nguyen is in the back," the strange guy said evenly. "Would you like to purchase a pack of jerky? We're having a sale. Buy one get one twenty-five percent off."
"What? No, I don't want jerky," Mark said. That was a pretty good deal, though; Mrs. Nguyen was normally quite stingy, especially with the checkout counter items. "You just – stay there!"
Mark pointed at the weirdo threateningly. The guy blinked at him. Feeling a little outclassed – the guy probably had four or five inches on him, not to mention the muscles – Mark hurriedly turned away and hustled into the back. He was grateful to see that Mrs. Nguyen was indeed in the back as the weirdo had claimed. Less good was the fact that Mrs. Nguyen was not bustling around doing inventory or whatever as Mark had expected.
She was just sitting there in the chair she kept for emergencies, looking pained and grumpy. Those two things generally went hand-in-hand with Mrs. Nguyen.
"Mrs. Nguyen! Are you okay?" Mark said, running over to her side.
"Bah, I'm fine." Mrs. Nguyen waved one hand irritably. "Just the old back acting up again. You know how it is."
"If your back hurts, you should take some medicine or something. Don't you have any more of the medicine my father gave you?" Mark said.
Mrs. Nyugen harrumphed. "Over seventy years I have made it on my own merits, and I will not suffer myself to rely on medicinal concoctions now! I'm only taking a short break."
"Mrs. Nguyen!" Mark said, exasperated. He sighed. "You know, my father went to all the effort of making it for you. It's rude to not even try it."
Mrs. Nguyen's lips thinned, and she gave him a gimlet eye. A shiver went down Mark's back, but he stood firm. The terrifying power of grandmas was immense, but Mark would not fail in his duty – which was, in this moment, to get her to stop being stubborn when she was in pain.
"Think you're being clever, do you?" she said crossly. "I've been playing these games since before your father was a twinkle in your grandmother's eye! But, I suppose you have a point."
"Thank you," Mark said. "Can I grab it for you? Where is it?"
Mrs. Nguyen told him where to find it, and once he'd retrieved it – the bottle was still almost full, the catty old woman – and given it to her, he couldn't help but ask.
"So... what's with the guy manning the counter?"
"A nice young man," Mrs. Nguyen said. "You wouldn't know it to look at him, but surprisingly polite, that one. He asked me if there was anything he could do to help, and my back hurt so much I joked that the only thing he could do for me would be taking over the counter. Imagine my surprise when he agreed!" Her eyes narrowed. "Is he doing well, though? He hasn't gone and stolen anything? Is he making sales?"
Mark shrugged. "As far as I can tell, he's taking it seriously at least. He offered me a discount on jerky when I came in."
"Good, good." Mrs. Nguyen nodded firmly. "I told him about that one. We haven't been selling as much of the jerky as I'd like, you know."
"Right..." Mark said. He hadn't known. Why would he know?
"Had to show him how to use the register, too," she grumbled. "What a worthless employee he'd make. Not a terrible stand-in for a few hours, though, I suppose."
Mrs. Nguyen shooed him out after that, and Mark returned to the front to buy the soda he'd been after in the first place. When he approached the counter with the can of soda, he eyed the weirdo appraisingly. He still looked like a weirdo.
"Thank you, have a nice day," the guy said, almost monotone, to the woman ahead of Mark in line. She'd bought one of the packets of jerky.
It was surreal, though. What kind of customer service voice was that? The weirdo wasn't even trying, yet nobody seemed overly bothered. Mark glared at him as he stepped up to the counter, setting down his soda.
"So who're you, then?" he said challengingly.
"My name is Azem. Did you find everything you need?" the guy said calmly, showing no sign that he noticed Mark's glare.
"Yeah. And no, I don't want any jerky," Mark said before the guy – Azem – could ask again. "Why are you here? You're a cape, aren't you?"
He wasn't sure Mrs. Nguyen had even noticed, or perhaps she just hadn't cared, but the mask kind of gave it away. Azem was no cape Mark had ever heard of before, though. The bell over the door rang, signifying that somebody had entered or left, but Mark ignored it, intent on Azem.
"I'm helping Mrs. Nguyen," said Azem.
Mark gave him a flat look. "Why?"
Azem returned the look evenly. "Why not?" He finished ringing up Mark's soda while Mark gaped at him. "That will be two dollars and fifty cents. Would you like a bag?"
"No," Mark said, snatching his soda off the counter and slapping two one-dollar coins and two quarters down in its place, which Azem took calmly to put in the register. "What the – you're working the register in a store owned by some woman you don't even know just because you can?"
Azem nodded.
"Don't just nod at me, damn it!" Mark snapped. Azem tilted his head to the side. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Hey!" said a new voice. Mark turned to see a man wearing a red hoodie and a cheap Halloween mask of a snarling demon. "This is a robbery! Give me all the money you have!"
The newcomer didn't have a weapon, but he cracked his knuckles threateningly, drawing attention to the tattoos across the backs of his fingers. 'Death' on one, and 'agony' on the other. He looked like some loser punk, was Mark's first impression, but then he placed the mask and the tattoos – there was a villain going around robbing small businesses in the neighborhood with a demon mask. Creatively, people had started calling him 'Youkai'; demon in Japanese. If he really was of Japanese heritage, that just made it even worse, because he was targeting businesses in his own community and other Asian ones. Mark was Vietnamese like Mrs. Nguyen, but that was just despicable.
But, principles aside, Youkai was still a cape, and Mark decidedly was not. He put his hands up, nervously looking at Azem out of the corner of his eye. Azem was a cape too, right? That could be bad if he wasn't strong, though; a cape battle would just wreck Mrs. Nguyen's shop.
"No," Azem said, and Mark winced.
"What did you say, punk?" Youkai snapped, and knocked over a nearby shelf with a crash.
Those shelves were several hundred pounds, Mark noted, feeling a little light-headed. They were several hundred pounds, and yet Youkai had just knocked it over without even trying. Definitely a cape.
Azem didn't look impressed. He vaulted the counter in one smooth motion, then stalked towards Youkai with a terrifying animalistic grace. The move out from behind the counter also revealed a sword and shield that Mark hadn't noticed before. If that had been heading towards Mark, he would have pissed his pants on the spot.
Youkai disagreed. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?" he shouted.
Azem just stood there silently, but his point was clear. If you want the money, you'll have to get past me first.
Youkai snarled, a very fitting noise for the mask he was wearing, and swung a punch at Azem. Mark braced himself to watch Azem become a bloody smear on the floor – he seemed confident, but you never knew.
Azem didn't even draw his sword and shield. He stepped into Youkai, ducked past Youkai's swinging hand, and elbowed Youkai in the face. Youkai yelled out in pain and stumbled backwards, clutching at his nose. His mask had shattered from the point of impact, and the bottom half of it had fallen away, leaving just the part above the nose, which was barely hanging on, a spiderweb of cracks shot through it.
Disappointingly, Youkai's now-visible nose did not appear to be broken. He was whining about it, but it wasn't even bleeding. Darn Brutes.
"Ow, ow, the hell, man," Youkai was complaining. He sounded young, suddenly, no older than Mark.
But with worse life decisions.
Youkai straightened up finally, lips pulled back to bare his teeth in an ugly grimace. "You've messed up, motherfu–" he cut himself off as Azem decided to draw his sword after all, and immediately laid it against Youkai's neck.
A stripe of blood beaded up from where Azem's sword connected with Youkai's neck, so maybe 'laid' wasn't the correct word, if there was enough pressure behind it for Youkai to start bleeding when he was durable enough to be elbowed in the face by somebody wearing a metal gauntlet without his nose even bleeding. That was probably why Youkai totally froze rather than being as unimpressed as most Brutes would be.
"Don't," Azem said, soft, quietly menacing.
Whatever Youkai had been about to do, he didn't.
Mark looked at the two capes. It was a bit disappointing as far as cape battles went, but he wasn't complaining. Now, who to call about this? Mark didn't exactly have the PRT's number, so... He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. 9-1-1.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Hi, yeah, there's been an attempted robbery, and I think the guy is a cape, so I'm not sure who to call..."
Sergeant Levens dropped out of the PRT van, aware of the members of his squad doing the same, and looked around for their SPD contact. He didn't see Detective Jameson, who'd originally called in the PRT, but there was a uniformed officer standing in front of one of the little shops along the street. He looked bored, which was not typical of regular police who had to manage a cape scene, Sergeant Levens noted.
The cop jumped to attention when he noticed Sergeant Levens and his squad, though.
"What's the situation?" Sergeant Levens demanded.
The information they'd gotten was too vague for his liking, and he still wasn't sure if this was a 'subdue' or a 'pickup.'
"Oh, right, so, we've got a cape in there for you," the cop said, indicating the little convenience store with a jerk of his head. "A bit of an odd situation, though... See, there's another cape in there still, keeping an eye on our wannabe-robber."
"All right," Sergeant Levens said slowly, waiting for the relevant part.
The cop picked up on his impatience and sniffed, his mouth twisting irritably. "So the thing is, the villain's not subdued or bound. He's just not causing trouble 'cause he knows the other guy'll beat his face in if he does. I'm no fancy PRT agent, but I figured that might cause trouble." He clicked his tongue and gestured broadly towards the store. "You're welcome to go in and see for yourself."
"I'll do that, thank you," Sergeant Levens said coolly.
He strode past the cop and into the store. The bell on the door jingled merrily above him, the cherry on top of the odd tableau in front of him. Sergeant Levens stopped abruptly, caught off-guard, and Schmidt behind him almost ran into him. After only a momentary pause, Sergeant Levens recollected himself and stepped off the little black mat inside the door and further into the store, towards the four people already there.
The store itself had remarkably little damage for the site of a parahuman battle; only one shelf had been knocked over, and the rest of the store seemed untouched. Near the checkout counter, all four people were clustered: a man with half a broken mask on his face and a hoodie that was pushed back to reveal short, spiked black hair, who was kneeling on the ground in the middle of the other people; a small old woman with white hair pulled into a severe bun, who was, for some reason, holding a broom; a young dark-haired man with glasses; and Azem.
Of course it was Azem. Sergeant Levens honestly should have known.
There were more people in the store, all appearing to be police, lurking around the edges of the main four, silent.
The old woman was talking, gesturing emphatically at the kneeling man with her broom. "--the nerve of you! Do you understand the shame you are bringing your ancestors? Your mother did not carry you for nine months and nurse you for another six for you to behave this way! What would your bà ngoại say if she could see you!? If it was me, I would be embarrassed to have a grandson like you!" she ranted, before switching into, apparently, her native language.
Meanwhile, Azem, probably the strongest cape Sergeant Levens had ever met, was just standing there with his arms crossed, nodding along. He was still nodding along, in fact, though the woman was no longer speaking English.
Fortunately, the woman seemed to only be spitting invectives or something similar, and didn't continue for much longer. Unfortunately, as soon as she stopped, the young man with glasses spoke up.
"Yeah! And like, where's your community loyalty, man? You're one of us, aren't you? Why are you attacking our stores?" he said, which was not, perhaps, the lesson Sergeant Levens wanted the criminal to be learning.
Yet, the kneeling cape did wilt, just a little further. He already looked like he might be on the verge of tears, though the top half of his face was hidden, based on his posture and the way his head was hanging. He rubbed at his nose, then put his hand back on his knee to match the other one. It was a very chastised pose.
"You could be improving the world with your power," Azem said next, unemotional as ever. "You could help people. Instead you're stealing and harassing your elders."
"Pah! Respect for his elders! Does this boy have it? I don't think so!" said the old woman.
Azem nodded seriously. "No respect for his elders or for those yet to come," he agreed. "Otherwise, he might think twice before harming his elders and deteriorating the state of the world."
"And for what? A few hundred dollars at most! How much money do you think my humble little store makes, boy!? Not enough to be worth stealing from! Yet that money is my livelihood! What is your livelihood? Nothing! You are little better than a parasite, living off the hard work of others!" the old woman said.
"You could be making an honest living for yourself," said Azem. "With your abilities, you're not incapable of it."
The old woman harrumphed. "An honest living? This one? He'd have to find the stomach for real work first! Instead he comes to my store and starts throwing things around for no reason!"
She glared down at the villain. Azem shook his head disappointedly.
"I'm sorry!" the villain burst out, leaning forward in an uncomfortable-looking bow of sorts. "I can do better!"
"Can you?" the old woman snapped, smacking the handle of her broom into her other hand, rather threateningly.
"I- I can! I swear. No, I will!" the villain said in a watery voice. He definitely sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
That was promising, in a way, though. Normal procedure, especially for such a small-time villain, was to attempt to recruit them to the Protectorate, and by the looks of it, Azem and the old lady had done half of the work for them already.
"Oh really?" the woman challenged. She shrugged. "Well, I suppose even a worthless leech on society can have a change of heart. But can you follow through? Maybe it would be too difficult for a spineless worm like you!"
"Anybody can change for the better," Azem said. "But they have to be willing to put in the work. It won't happen on its own."
The villain sniffled. "I can do it! I will! I'll turn my life around, I swear! I- I won't steal anymore! I'll do better!"
Azem nodded. The old woman gave a dubious hum. Sergeant Levens stepped forward.
"I'm Sergeant Levens, with the Parahuman Response Team," he announced. "Azem. Ma'am. The PRT will take it from here."
Azem turned and graced Sergeant Levens with an Azem-typical unimpressed expression. The old woman turned and scowled furiously at him, which was almost enough to make him take a step back – but Sergeant Levens had faced scarier foes, and he stood his ground. The villain, still kneeling, startled and looked up.
"Took you long enough!" the old woman said sharply.
"Mrs. Nguyen, please," the young man with glasses said. "It all turned out okay, didn't it?"
"Only because I happened to hire a cape to work in my store! Certainly not because any of these people did their job correctly!" said the apparent Mrs. Nguyen.
"I'm very sorry, Ma'am. Unfortunately, there's only so much we can do," said Sergeant Levens. Really, how quickly did she expect the PRT to be able to respond when they had to wait for the regular police to respond to a call, then call them in? "But we're here now to take him into custody." He nodded towards the villain.
Azem stepped out of the way, clearing a path to where the villain was kneeling on the ground.
"Yes! Please, I'll go with you, I won't struggle!" said the villain, crawling towards Sergeant Levens. "Just please get me away from them!"
The old woman harrumphed, but she looked rather pleased. Perhaps her ability to harangue young adults into submission was a point of pride for her. Azem, meanwhile, did not appear to have any particular feelings about this.
"...All right. Yes, if you come with us peacefully we'll get you away from them," said Sergeant Levens.
If it made his job easier, he certainly wasn't going to complain about it. It kept the villain from struggling while some of Sergeant Levens' agents moved forward and cuffed him. Azem stood aside and watched this happen. The old woman seemed to have lost interest, and promptly set about cleaning up the mess in her store while ignoring their presence. The villain even walked to the PRT van of his own volition.
Sergeant Levens would normally drive, or at least sit in the front of the van, but this time he opted to sit in the back with their newly-arrested villain.
"Were you serious?" he asked once they were all settled.
The villain, sitting sulkily with his head down, looked up at him. "Huh?"
"When you said you'd turn your life around," Sergeant Levens said. "Did you mean it?"
The villain frowned and looked away. "...Yeah," he muttered. "They... had some good points. That hero and the old – uh. The, um, honored elder."
He shivered, as though she would be able to tell he'd almost insulted her and would come after him with her broom.
"In that case," said Sergeant Levens, "I have a question for you."
He waited until the villain looked back over at him, then continued,
"How do you feel about joining the Protectorate?"
Derek eyed the literal pallet of cash still sitting in the parking garage where it had been dropped off. Over ninety-two million dollars, given physical form in the shape of fresh, crisp hundred-dollar bills. It was awe-inspiring, in a way. It was also incredibly inconvenient. It took up an entire parking spot of its own. If they wanted to move it, they would have to use one of the cargo elevators because it wouldn't fit in a regular elevator. Frankly, Derek didn't want to go through all that effort only to have to do it all again in reverse.
He was, just a tiny bit, looking forward to seeing how Azem intended to go about claiming his rightfully deserved ninety-two million dollars in cash. Derek had no intention of making it easy on him, either. They guaranteed that anybody, even villains, would receive their bounty money, but that didn't mean they had to deliver it.
After the immense headache it had been to get his hands on such an absurdly large amount of cash, now Derek only had one problem left: how to get Azem to come retrieve it. Derek had spoken with Azem for a grand total of five minutes, and had not, in that time, gotten any form of contact information from the supposed interdimensional traveler. He would just have to hope that Snubnose had, and it was with that thought that Derek returned to his office to call her.
Or... tried to.
He had to pass by the lobby on his way there, and in the process, who should he spot but Azem himself? Derek had to do a double-take, shocked at seeing Azem so suddenly without even calling him in first. Why was he here?
"I'm sorry," the receptionist at the front desk was saying as Derek approached.
"Azem, right?" Derek said, and Azem turned to him.
They had gotten him a mask after all, Derek noted. The effect of it was a bit off-putting, he thought. A bit too ominous.
Azem nodded. "Director Reynolds," he said, and nothing more.
Right. Good to see some things didn't change. Derek shook his head, exasperated.
"I have to say, I'm curious to know why you've come here, Azem," he said, honestly curious. There was no way he'd known about the money, which had literally just been delivered.
Then again, if Azem was a Trump, it wasn't impossible his powerset included Thinker powers. That was a terrifying thought. Most Trumps didn't come with Thinker powers for a reason, and it was everybody else's peace of mind.
"You said it would take a couple of days to arrange the bounty money," Azem said.
So Azem had just been checking in to see if the money was ready? That was plausible enough, Derek supposed. For the most part.
"Is that right? You've got really good timing, then," Derek said. "The cash just came in ten minutes ago. All ninety-two million dollars of it." He raised his eyebrows. "I hope you've got a plan for getting it out again."
Azem nodded silently. That was getting real old, real fast.
"Well, I guess I'll take you at your word," Derek said, a little pointedly, but to no avail; Azem didn't react. Derek sighed. "All right then. We've got your cash in the parking garage at the moment, there's too much to easily get into the building, so I can bring you there to collect it if you like."
Another nod from Azem. Great guy. Very talkative.
Feeling in a petty mood, Derek returned the favor by simply turning and walking away without another word. Yet, of course, if Azem was bothered, it was impossible to tell. He didn't even hesitate before following.
Derek led the way to the parking garage, then to the parking spot the pallet of money had been left in.
"There you have it," he said, gesturing at the absolutely absurd amount of cash. He couldn't even imagine how heavy it was. "Ninety-two million, four hundred and eleven thousand and six hundred dollars in one hundred dollar bills."
He would be deeply amused if Azem were to attempt to pick it up and walk away with it – Snubnose said he was a Brute, so there was a good chance he was strong enough to lift it, but it was bound to be extremely unwieldy.
Azem nodded, serious as ever, and stepped up to the pallet. Derek watched with an unprofessional level of interest. Inexplicably, Azem set one hand on the money, and the entire pallet vanished. It was not in the blink of an eye, because Derek hadn't blinked. It was just gone. Because obviously, Azem also had a teleportation power. Why wouldn't he? Damn Trumps.
Derek was a professional. He was a PRT director. He did not allow himself to react outwardly.
Inwardly, however, he was distraught. Disbelief and disappointment warred within him, both undercut by the dismayed understanding that this was just what powerful parahumans – especially Trumps – were like. Honestly, Derek should have expected something like this as soon as he witnessed Azem's complete confidence in the face of having to transport ninety-two million dollars.
"Where did you put it?" Derek managed to ask in a voice that was almost normal and not shocked or devastated at all.
Azem turned his head to look at him. "Into my bag," he said.
Ah. Of course. Derek nodded. He was forced to change his assumption. Azem wasn't – necessarily – a teleporter; he just had some kind of storage power. That could fit an entire pallet at once. That he could access by just teleporting things into it, and therefore presumably out of it.
"Oh, that's good," Derek said faintly. He cleared his throat. "Well, uh, thank you for your service. Your defeat of the Slaughterhouse Nine and assistance in removing the immense threat they posed is greatly appreciated."
Greatly, greatly appreciated.
"So, enjoy your reward."
Your insanely huge reward. It made Derek dizzy to think of how much money that was – far more than enough to retire on – and it was being given to some random cape who claimed to be an alien. Yeah.
Azem nodded silently, looking unconcerned by the dozen lifetimes' worth of money he'd just tossed into his bag.
Derek only allowed himself a moment to sigh internally – and made sure it wasn't outwardly visible. "Well, that's all I had for you, so I can show you out of the building now," he said. Azem followed as he led the way back to the elevators. "What are your plans from here?"
He was still a bit cautious of having such a powerful independent wandering around, though it didn't seem like Azem had ulterior motives or was only after the bounty money. He didn't know of that many powerful independents, really. All of the most powerful parahumans were either Protectorate heroes or villains.
Or Scion, Derek supposed, but he really wasn't about to start making Scion comparisons.
They knew next to nothing about Azem, and he had very few deeds to his name. It was plausible that Azem had only killed the Slaughterhouse Nine for their bounties. ...Of course, it would have been more plausible before Derek started getting reports of Azem doing things like taking down small-time villains while inexplicably working (in his cape identity!) as a cashier for some random convenience store. But still. Parahumans didn't need to be outright evil to end up causing more trouble than good, and that was part of why the Protectorate existed. Independents, even heroes, were dangerous in how unchecked they were.
"I'll travel," said Azem.
"Oh, really? Where do you think you'll go?" Derek asked, genuinely a bit curious. When a cape started off their career by defeating the Slaughterhouse Nine, one really had to wonder where they were going from there. Maybe next he'd manage to somehow wipe out the Elite. That would be nice.
Azem shrugged.
Well, if he was from another planet, he probably didn't know the landscape very well. Derek promptly started questioning when and why he'd actually ever considered that Azem was telling the truth about being from another planet.
"You should head south," Derek suggested for totally innocent and benevolent reasons.
These innocent and benevolent reasons consisted of 1. The Elite were based in San Francisco, and he figured he might as well try; and 2. The nearest PRT department to Seattle was Portland, so if Azem went south through Oregon, he would be out of Derek's district as quickly as possible.
"Thank you for the advice," said Azem, giving absolutely no indication of whether or not he would follow it.
"Sure, sure," Derek said. They were approaching the doors out of the building now, so Derek said, "All right then. Goodbye, Azem."
Azem nodded back at him, then walked out of the building. Derek knew the service Azem had performed for not only him, but really the entirety of the United States of America, yet his genuine first thought was quite uncharitable.
Good riddance.
- Location
- United States of America
This chapter was hilarious. I love deadpan Azem.
- Location
- new york
Punk tries to rob the place and it isn't even the 'cape' that brings him to tears. It's owner who is sharp tongued and swift with a broom. lol
Fellow Human
Verified Roado Rolla
So why's Warrior of Light the silent type? Can't say I liked the game...at all, but the cinematics are awesome.
tenmachi
We don't talk about the other nine
Never underestimate the power of A Disappointed Grandparent.
In nearly all of the cutscenes where the WoL is both present and their face is seen, they say nothing at all in outright words, just occasionally breaking into pantomime that indicates they're speaking. Azem's generally quiet manner is probably a nod to that.
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- Location
- Te Ika-a-Māui
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Easier to think of your PC as "you" if they don't talk much.
- Location
- Mobile, Alabama
Because that's how he is in game.
Fellow Human
Verified Roado Rolla
Ah yes, if I remember correctly, outside of main quest cutscenes, no one has a voice coz they were being stingy with the budget?
No "Curved...swords?" or "Nice day for fishing, ain't it.? Huh ha." no nothing, just weird... and I played my share of 2D RPG's without character voice no problem.
Dunno what I expected.
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- Location
- Te Ika-a-Māui
- Pronouns
- She/Her
To be fair, they had to rewrite a lot of stuff to deal with the mechanic changes between 1.0 and 2.0.
JBcristal
Bring Me All The Puppies!
- Location
- Somewhere that doesn't have enough puppies.
For a more involved answer, although the character started a somewhat generic semi-silent protagonist who only speaks during the rare prompt, said prompts have steadily formed into an actual pretty solid character in and out of itself. How mischievous, whiny, gentle or snarky the WoL is, that's in hands of the player, but as a whole they are canonically a stoic person of little words, but great value in that rare input.
Or tl;dr the game writers did a good job making the WoL still feel like their own character, not a cardboard cutout.
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Of course Azem would come across an old lady that needs to rest her aching knees and promptly offer to take her place behind the counter, armor and all. The ancient adventuring tradition of helping everyone he meets!
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Random Mount Roulette is going to be even better. ROCKET TURTLE.