Until kingdom comes 2 IC

[Wattz]

Aerosia

Baxter felt as if he’d vomit.

He fell to his knees, clammy hands unable to grip his beloved cart, and gripped his stomach. The amulet he’d been trying to sell clambered to the ground with a loud clink. Marketplace murmurs were replaced by silence, cold cobblestone replaced by luxurious panels. Baxter breathed heavily, as if acclimating his lungs to the abrupt transition. The magic was just too sudden, too unexpected.

At last, he looked up, dazed and frantic. Four pairs of feet came into view, all attached to some very intimidating looking individuals. Why, he dared even believe that one such pair belonged to the good King Kale of Aerosia!

His heart rate dropped almost instantaneously, suddenly realizing just how awkward things were. Ripped mercilessly from a sale or not, he was still kneeling by a king looking absolutely garish.

He stood up sheepishly and cleared his throat, determined to salvage the moment. “Evening, gentlemen.” Baxter addressed the men, breathing heavily as he brushed off his coat. “Milord,” he said with a sweeping bow. His eyes watered slightly, his stomach still churned, and his head continued to throb, but he’d be damned before he made a fool of himself when… teleported… for whatever reason. It was always possible he was merely having a bad dream, though. He was hoping greatly for that solution.

[Mysteria]

Norgard-Port Town of Damas


Slightly stunned by being back in Norgard once again and the events around her having transpired before she could even attempt to help, Ciara rushed to the side of the healer and young girl who had been being held captive until Arjak and the others stepped into the mix, in a splendid display of power that left Ciara amazed, and proud.

The healers attentions were however, quickly turned in the same direction as most of the others were also, towards that of the wolf. The girl, still looked to be almost in shock, not to mention afraid. Her wounds did not equal the fear Ciara sensed held within her eyes. Ciara knelt beside of her and the healer, taking her hand into her own as she softly spoke "You are safe now, among friends. I am known as Raven, Ciara Anstruther of the Anstruther Clan. Arjak will not allow harm to come to you."

Still holding the young girls hand as she brushed the hair from her eyes, Ciara smiled over at Wren, quietly urging her to help the wolf "Wren, I am certain she will be fine, but I am afraid that you are needed elsewhere.' Ciara nodded her head to the wolf as she spoke "He helped us, we should do whatever we can to help him."

[Ava]

Norgard -Port Town of Damas

People kept touching her. Ava felt out of herself, as if she were drowning in the waters of her mind. And as much as it seemed the easiest thing to do, she did not want to fall under.

Forcing herself to take notice of her surroundings, she realized someone was holding her hand. The woman then brushed some of her hair out of her face. She sniffed at her the smallest bit, feeling the need to know her scent. She smelled of the ocean...and of a forest that was not her own.

"I am Ava, of the Tiger Clan." She said in a small wary voice. She glanced down at their clapsed hands, her own hand was covered in blood. Hers, and the queensmen's. She shuttered and closed her eyes for a moment.

Taking a long breath she drew in the scents around her. There was the man who saved her....Arjak if her memory served, and the woman who held her hand. Many dead, others who smelled of the ocean, one who smelled clean, then there was the smell of disease. Ava felt her nose wrinkle with the smell.

"You are a Druid, are you not?" She asked, opening her eyes to meet the womans. "And, you..." Her eyes going to the Healers. "I smell someone sick. And I am fine at the momment." She slightly smiled. "Thank you for the concern."

[Anne Bonny]

(A copost with the cuddly and talented Keeper!)

Wren watched carefully as Zelvad approached the wolf. To her great concern, he was limping also. Every time the creature moved, she felt herself jump slighty, still half expecting him to lash out at her companion. But after watching the wolf for a few short moments, it because clear that it had no intentions of hurting anyone.

"Wren, I am certain she will be fine, but I am afraid that you are needed elsewhere. He helped us, we should do whatever we can to help him." Ciara's voice cut into her thoughts. The healer turned to meet Ciara's eyes. She was right, of course. And even if the young druidess was hurt, she was well enough to stay on her feet, which was more than could be said for the wolf.

"Okay," Wren breathed. She gave the Norgardians a nod. She had opened her mouth to reassure Arjak that she would be back quickly to tend to him, but something else caught her ear.

"Where's the nearest apothecary?! This one needs healing herbs or magics!" Zelvad called from the wolf's side.

Wren couldn't help but frown. He had seen her work with Roseabelle, they had traveled together across the sea. Why would someone in her own group be screaming for some other medic? She whirled from her friends and quickly stalked toward the assassin and the wolf. She paused a moment to whisper in Zelvad's ear before turning toward the hurt creature. "This is the second time I've found you yelling for a healer in the middle of town, Zelvad. I would have thought you'd have learned from the last time that help is closer than you think."

Without waiting for an answer, the girl dropped to her knees before the wolf. Despite the suggestion that he might be a shapeshifter or some other magical creature, she was surprised to see how... human his eyes were. Wren hesitated for a moment. What was the proper ettiquite in this situation? Should she hold out a hand for him to smell like a dog? Or pet his head? She bit her lip and clasped her hands in her lap instead.

"My name is Wren, and I'm a healer," she said gently. "Can I help?"

Epinala smelled the approach of a second person, this one as well holding lingering scents of the same person that was now sitting near him. He tried to raises his head to growl, yet only managed to open his eyes, the growl dying half way to his throat. He blinked twice, to make sure that he was seeing it right, but the person now sitting near him was female… but also seemed to glow. He passed the second part off as the fever.

“My name is Wren, and I am a healer. Can I help?”

“Oh thank the spirits a healer” Epinala thought to himself, which made him wince. He weakly licked her hand before resting his head in her lap. His energy was low, and he didn’t want to use up what little he might have to try and spell out a sentence. He would just have to hope that she would take the hand lick as a sign of allowance.

The girl smiled in appreciation of such a kind gesture. It struck her that he must be a fascinating being, a mix of animal and human all at once. But there would be time to get to know each other later.

Wren put a hand on the side of the wolf's face and couldn't resist stroking his soft fur for a few seconds. "I've never helped anyone in an animal form," she said meekly. "So this might take a minute to get used to."

Usually the healer used physical contact to connect with the person she was helping, but just stroking the wolf's fur wasn't giving her the same spark she normally felt. Ruffling the fur, she pushed her fingers beneath it until she could feel the wolf's skin with her fingertips. Wren closed her eyes and willed her magic to life.

The fever made beads of sweat appear on her forehead almost immediately, despite the cold Norgard air. She could feel her joins begin to ache and a pounding in her head as she dove deeper into the wolf's spirit. The sickness was strong, nearly sufficating, but Wren's magic was stronger.

Several minutes ticked by, but time was lost to the girl. All that mattered was hunting out the source of the illness and destroying it. She focused first on the wolf's head, where it throbbed with pain and slowly drew the virus out and down, through the wolf's neck, where more attacked his throat. These too were rounded up and forced down into his chest. She continued against the increasing resistance as more and more of the sickness was gathered, forcing it all down to the beast's paws. It took all of her concentration to press it downward, finally crushing the virus into nonexistance by the weight of it's own mass.

With a gasp of breath, Wren opened her eyes. The sick feelings she had gained from the wolf, fever and aches, were gone. But she felt nearly exhausted. The animal must have been plagued by the fever for quite some time for it to have such a grip on him.

"There still may be some left in you," Wren said, her voice hoarse. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that it was a strong fever. If you'll stay with us for some time, I can try again tonight, or tomorrow."

He smiled lightly as the woman stroked his fur, the first nice feeling he had in a while. Out in the woods, the only contact he got was from when he brushed himself against a tree, or another wolf nuzzled his body.

”I’ve never helped anyone in an animal form, so this might take a while”

He could hear the slight hesitation in her voice, and he sighed as well. At this point, he didn’t mind how she did, as long as she didn’t stop petting him. A faint smile creases his features as she ruffled his fur, sifting it around to find his skin. His body relaxed as her fingers found his skin. They were cold, but not uncomfortable so. In fact, they felt perfect against his skin, cooling that small portion of him, but it was a spot none the less.

He shuddered slightly as the fever in his head shifted, no longer in his head, but had rolled back into his throat. He continued to flinch as the fever seemed to roil and condense through his body. Epinala looked up to see beads of sweat on Wrens head, her body tensed. He felt guilty, for it seemed that she was either drawing it into herself, or was feeling the side effects of it. A yelp nearly escaped his lips as the fever settled into his paw. He would not have been surprised if he looked down to see it on fire. The feeling soon faded, as well as the rest of it.

He panted lightly, senses going back to normal as he could tell the fever was gone. He sat up on his back haunches, moving lethargically. The fever might have been gone, but his body was still sore and tired from the use of energy in the past couple of days.

"There still may be some left in you. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that it was a strong fever. If you'll stay with us for some time, I can try again tonight, or tomorrow."

Epinala had to thank her, yet he wasn’t ready to return to being a human, not with how little energy he had, or the company present. He lifted his left paw and rested it on her shoulder, slowing his breathing back to a normal pace. He stared into her green eyes, trying to convey his gratitude through his eyes into her, holding her eyes in gaze with her own. He nuzzled her nose with his own, giving a small bark as his tail slowly wagged back and forth, accepting her offer through his own means of communication.

Wren smiled in return and couldn't resist stroking the scarlet fur on the wolf's head.

[Kris]

Norgard -Port Town of Damas

"I'm not found of this!", Helena said as she straighten her position. She lifted up her fists to ready and shielded herself or attack if needed. Without armor or weapons, that she decided ever so idealistically, yet somewhat idiotically to give up on back in Ascara, she didn't had much means to fight for her own.

Her decision to hire the trader was therefore critical, yet she wasn't so whole heartily approve of it.

Even so, she knew perfectly well that paladins were not only equipped warrior, but rather strong in terms of melee. As few of the guards that ran while being terrified from Arjak's attack reached her direction, she decided she wanted to get to the bottom of this. to do so she needed one alive.

One strong fist to the jaw halted the man who quickly got up and was about to lash his sword at her. Helena was quicker as she pushed away the blade with another attack with the back of her wrist. The guard tried to send a punch, which was full of power, yet lacked dexterity. Helena dodged by ducking, feeling the weight of her long hair as it kept still in the air a while longer before gravity pull it down after her. She leaned on her arms as she tossed her legs at his, entangling them and knocking him down.

She soon was above him, nailing one hand with hers and his neck with her other hand's arm, "Now talk!", she ordered with her commander's tune, "I want to understand what is going on".

"Heavens!", said the guard as he tried to shake her off, "That style of combat, you'd be a paladin, aye?"

"I was", said Helena, moving her arm closer, reminding him who was in charge and who was asking the questions here. He felt her grip ever so strongly, "Now talk, why would you needed the druid girl? I thought your queen made it simple and clear, no contact with the outsider tribes".

The man coughed, "It true then. Your kind will never aid savages and heretics. Before my eyes I see an assassin too. I understand now, that your order truly has been corrupted with evil".

Helena's eyes widen, "My kind? What do you mean by that?!", she shivered, taken by his words, "Something happened to the paladins of Ivalor?!"

He was able to slip his hand under her grip and shove her aside. Helena tried to get up and chase him, only to realize he was far more quicker than her, "Curses!"

"Are you all right Ma'am?", said one of the two druids that asked for their help. Helena nodded and allowed the other man to help her stand up.

From the nearest houses people were getting outside.

"Did you see it?!"

"Sure I did!"

"Curses savages! They killed the royal guards!"

"The lord shall punish them I gather!"

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

The townspeople of Damas were soon to be outside, holding torches, sticks, rocks, Pitchfork... anything that was useful to them to chase away the group.

"We must head elsewhere!", Helena looked at the two druids, "You wanted to tell us something and you need our help. I believe you own us at least a temporary sanctuary from the citizens. Take us to your lands! As you've seen, we mean you no harm!"

"Aye, fair lady", said one of the druids, "Of course, we planned to do so from the moment we witness that lord Arjak was with you. Saving Lady Ava only proved us that you are truly the answer we sought for so long from the allfather. Join us quickly before they alert any more guards. We don't want to be exposed just yet, we are spies sent to fetch information. We got what we came here to get, Lady Ava will tell us more of the story and we shall tell you more ourselves...", the druid lowered his head and sighed before he looked back up at Arjak, "Lord Arjak, we bear terrible news... I beg you to follow us home quickly".

Helena nodded, "we shall do so". She turned around and looked at the trail of houses and streets that the queen guard had escaped into. She needed to get herself new weapons, new armor and more information on Ivalor, "Trader!", she called for the Jacob, "You follow us!", she ordered, letting him know she will need much more of his services.

And Helena was sure that the trader will follow, after all he wouldn't want to stay after the people of the town seen him aiding the group. To them, he was a traitor as well.


***

Aerosia- Capital Burg


"I assure you good men, I mean you no harm", said Gilliam, feeling the tip of the blades closer than he'd like, to his present.

"Back away from him, you mongrel!", cried the king, fearing for the life of the oracle.

Gilliam lifted his free right hand to silence the king, "I beg you M'lord. I shan't be harmed. I believe", Gilliam grinned as his eyes caught the cat-like golden orbs the moment Jask lifted his head up from his left shoulder, "At least not as long as I'm needed for the information, aye?".

Gilliam was rather calm to the fact he was found in a rather uncomfortable and somewhat awkward position. He took steady deep breaths, feeling the cold hands and the sensation that followed them, that he'd rather not feel outside of his bedchamber, "Unhand me, sir", he said slowly, "I believe we have much to discuss, and I don't believe it's the way to do it".

[Awean8]

Norgard - Port Damas

"I wouldn't dare leave without payment", the mercenary told himself, "or the excitement"

After finishing off one of the soldiers he had slain, he sheathed his blade and followed the party to where ever with his hands tucked into his pockets. Jenson, who had been watching the battle from the sidelines followed his master as well. "Master, we shouldn't get in over our heads."

"You worry too much. I'm Jacob Grimwayr, I'm sure I can get us out of any trouble that we can get into."

"As you would have it master", Jenson was a middle-aged man who had gray hair that was neatly combed along with deep blue eyes that shined with wisdom. He wore a blue robe with gold lining with black gloves and boots. Jacob and Jenson had met a long time ago when Black Hound hadn't even been formed yet, and although they spend most of the day together there are still many mysteries that revolve around the man.

[Evil Troy]

Norgard – Port Town of Damas

Joseph blinked for a few moments at the assassin standing before him. “Uh…oh, I just assumed where you were all trying to save the girl that you were all together. I guess it’s like the saying goes, when you assume you put the boot on the other foot; although I must admit that that never really did make much sense to me. As for your question my name….” Joseph paused for a moment before giving his name; what if these people were with Sigard, or what if they recognized the name and decided to turn him in. “My name is Alucard. I’m just a lone wanderer traveling from place to place.”

After watching the healer help the wolf, or shapshifter, or whatever it was Joseph looked at everyone which was around him that fought and then those who did not fight, which he did not see before. It was interesting how everyone in the group was so different from one another. It was also at that moment that he realized how everyone around him was wearing much warmer clothing compared to him simple long sleeve shirt made out of cotton. But he paid no mind to this see how this colder weather actually felt very comfortable to him.

“Might I ask you all something? Who are all of you? What are you all doing here?” Of course as luck would have it about the time that Joseph said this villager started to come out of their homes and yell at them for what they had done. Joseph let out a deep sigh, “Man I was looking forward to eating some of this village’s food instead of having to go out in the wild and finding my own.” As he said this quietly to himself he closed his eyes and slightly looked down. Looking back up he walked towards the motley crew which stood before him. “Would you all mind if I were to travel with you for a while? Seeing how I took out a few of the guards as well these villagers would not want me around either. Also it has been a while since I have traveled with others so the company would be nice.”

[StormWolf]

It did not take long for Wren and Ciara to come to the golden haired girl's aid, acting more like the women of the Clan's than they thought. It was common for the Clan, even other Clans, to care for the lost children or those rescued from a situation much like the one Arjak and his comrades had quickly torn asunder with blade and bolt of lightning.

Ava, the golden haired gilr, gave her name and stated that she was part of the Tiger Clan. Arjak combed his memory, remembering that the Tiger Clan was a smaller Clan than his own, but it was not lacking is spirit or druidic prowess. The Andunn Clan ruled over the region of White Forest, the Chief of the Andunn Clan acting as High Lord and Thane of the region. It was no wonder Arjak had recognized her in some way. Then there was the matter of the Red Wolf. It was no secret that some druids could shift their form to that of a creature, and the Andunn druids were the only ones Arjak knew of to take the form of a wolf. Still, such was a matter that would be resolved when an angry mob of loyalists was not hungry for more blood than had already been spilt on Norgard's solemn earth that day. Arjak clutched his mid-section tightly as his wounds began to tingle and sting as the fingers of cold chilled the gashes in the marred flesh. Goosebumps rose over Arjak's exposed upper body at a cruel gust of sea breeze. His stubborn will told him to confront the loyalists, but thankfully he had more than enough sense to see that such an action was a suicidal gesture.

"Debts will be payed and questions will be answered once we reach my Clan's hall in White Forest, on my honor, I promise." Looking down at himself, Arjak realized just how handsomely he was bleeding. The soldier's steel had bitten deep enough in to Arjak's chest to open a large vessel that spilled blood at an alarming rate. "Let us begone from this place. My homecoming to Norgard may not be so soiled if we can get to White Forest. Loyalists know damn well to avoid my woods." Arjak growled, gently taking Ava's arm and hoisting the girl to her feet, the strength of Arjak's arm giving the girl a few seconds of hangtime in the air. Arjak leaned closely to Ciara, his lips nearly brushing her ear.

"Ciara... I need you to help me walk until Wren has recovered enough to heal me. This wound on my chest grows quite greavous. Let us not make a terrible fuss over this, though. We need to get out of the city as soon as possible." Arjak tried to smile, but his skin was already starting to turn white as sea foam. Arjak saw himself lucky, however. Had the queensmen's blades been more keen, Arjak's head would be rolling about seperate from his shoulders or his innards would have been wriggling from a wound to the abdomen. The bleeding gashes would be remidied once Wren's healing arts were applied, but at the same time, the girl needed to recouperate after taxing herself, and Arjak did not want to make the girl faint.

[~N~]

Put on some AC/DC, Mr. DJ. Something fitting for the return of the Merchant Lord of the Scales.
************************************************** ********
Ivalor, Port of Hope ---> Ascara, Port of Tallis

He had witnessed many things, and lost much. Shylock never liked losing anything without gaining something in return--and right now, that debt stood like a gaping abyss in his mind; his silvery brows knitting together, and his sharp emerald eyes piercing the southern horizon that was just now bringing the Port of Tallas, Ascara into perspective.

He had witnessed Boglan spear that priest, Tik-Va, and then become something else--a servant of Emonaloch; a servant who was formerly under Dravon's thumb, not the demon's. A loss.

He had witnessed the entire kingdom of Ivalor become enshrouded and cut off by a barrier that seemed to drain the very life of its citizens and make way for more of those things who served Emonaloch, not Dravon. Another loss. They needed goods, and Dravon Shylock had his monopoly, but at what cost, and for how long?

He had word that the prince Hasan was starting a revolt in Ascara against the Sultan. A market that was nearly in his grasp, through the assassinations carried out by Cronus Audata, and now it was all just... slipping away. Shylock clenched his fist and teeth simultaneously, his jaw muscles showing through his thinning cheeks. Damn them. Another opportunity... slowly being lost.

Raphael Sinclair and his group escaped from a trap that should've been unable to avoided in two ports! Blast! His fist came down on the wooden railing that curved up into the prow of the ship. Damn them!

The two merchants he had sent with that bastard child, Symon Novikov--Figoro and Melius--were reported as dead, by his spies, not even half-way on their journey to Esgares. Shylock fumed, his face reddening. No more merchants, no more ambassadors to Esgares. No more opportunity for a market beachhead there. Damn it! A future opportunity... lost!

With seemingly nothing but losses, the Merchant Lord sailed to the Port of Tallas in Ascara...

But Fortune smiles on the rich and poor alike, the good and the wicked just the same... and sometimes, just when we think we've lost everything, we receive unforeseen blessings that we had not imagined.

There, waiting for him in the shadows of the Port of Tallas was the familiar form of Cronus Audata. The young man had done his work after all.

For there, in the harbor, under Ascarian guard, was The Strahl.

"Master Shylock, what a surprise," Cronus remarked with a smirk.

"Cronus, what do you have here?" the Merchant Lord's eyebrows raised in surprise, and for the first time in a week, his emerald eyes twinkled with a measure of pleasure.

"I believe you are familiar with this ship," the assassin replied with a wave of his hand and a gesture towards it. "I'm sure you'll recognize it as formerly belonging to Raphael Sinclair," he explained, "now... it belongs to you."

Dravon Shylock allowed a smile to slowly curl upon his lips. It was the rarest of sights.

"My gods, Mr. Audata. You have outdone yourself, sir."

Cronus allowed himself a polite nod.

"There is more," he added, interrupting Dravon's longing reverie as the Merchant Lord gazed upon his prize. Shaking himself out of it, he turned to Cronus and narrowed his emerald eyes.

"More?"

"Yes. It seems that Emonaloch is quite concerned with the group of adventurers that were with Sinclair, who are at this moment headed to Norgard."

"Norgard..." Shylock replied, his eyes darkening in thought as he considered this new information.

Dreeg, his three foot goblin standard-bearer, sneezed, shaking the colors slightly, as half-a-dozen disgusting green globs of snot splattered upon the dock. Both men ignored him.

"Yes, and I cannot go after them. I have personal business to attend to in Chanclera," Cronus added.

Dravon shook his head quickly, "No, I will not need you in Norgard, just yet. Attend to your business as you must. I need you free of distractions."

"Before I go, I expect..."

"Mr. Audata," Shylock interrupted him, his emerald eyes piercing Cronus's own, "for services rendered, asked for and unasked for, you shall have at your disposal up to 10% of my total profits and wealth to spend as you feel necessary. I will personally buy anyone or anything in Chanclera that you need to maintain or further your position there. Let no one stand in your way, and if they dare, let them know that I, Dravon Shylock, Merchant Lord of the Scales, Master of the Markets of Sigard, Ivalor, and Ascara, will cut off their kingdom and starve every last man, woman, and child, if they so much as think about resisting you, or taking any action at all against you." As he said, this, the Merchant Lord's eyes seemed to nearly glow with the ferocity of his words, his visage trembling with the seriousness of his vow.

"You have been my most loyal and profitable investment as of late," Shylock reflected, "and you shall have the weight and power of my economic empire behind you wherever you shall go. No one shall stand against you."

"All well and good, Master Shylock, but..."

Dravon removed a weighted bag from his robes, and pulled open the string, showing its contents to the assassin. Sparking lights danced off Cronus's eyes, and what he beheld was worth far more than gold. The crystal clear diamonds caught every shred of light and painted the inside of the sack like a night sky full of stars. Then the pouch was cinched shut and dropped into Cronus's waiting hand. "That should suffice," the Merchant Lord replied.

Cronus smirked and nodded, stowing the riches so deftly that they seemed to literally vanish into thin air from his outstretched hand in the blink of an eye.

"Good journeys to you, Merchant Lord of the Scales," Cronus said in parting.

"And to you, Last of the true Assassins," Shylock replied.

With that, Cronus melted into the crowds in the next moment and was gone like a spirit, while Dravon went about transferring his crew and goods to the Strahl, assuming command there, and setting a course for Norgard, Port City of Flogeru.

It would take Shylock just two days to reach the City in this, the swiftest of ships upon the open seas, and as he plotted over the course, the Myth of Pandora, and the mentioning of the Pillars crept back into his thoughts.

Before he could work them out, however, a lean, pale figure crept from the shadows into the Merchant Lord's presence.

"I want my book," the pale young lad with long white hair said in his characteristically fast, rambling speech.

Symon Novikov had returned...

************************************************** ********

Author's Note: I shall be posting Part 2 tomorrow.

[Stiltzkin]

Jask didn't immediately let go of his prey. He most certainly didn't care for someone ordering him around. Using his free hand and not even looking Jask flipped the King of Aerosia The Bird. "Aw, I don't wish to offend." Whimpered Jask sarcastically into the Oracles ear. His tongue flicked out and licked the Oracles ear for an instant before he let go and leaned back and staggered before falling back rather melodramatically into Soloa's arms.

Soloa's expression suddenly grew pained as if simply touching Jask caused discomfort. Jask stared up into her face. "Don't be sad, Sweety." Jask righted himself with a quick twist of his heels. She cupped her face in his hands a smiled. Soloa's expression disappeared. "That's better." Without warning or provocation Jask grabbed Soloa's beautiful red hair, twisting up in his fist, and whipping her around forcing her to almost collide with the Oracle. But Jask snapped his finger and Soloa's body dissolved into thick white smoked that enveloped before being sucked into the yellowish dagger hanging from a rotting leather sheath at his side.

"I am getting very bored. Someone kill someone else. Just DO something." Sighed Jask plopping himself down on a the chair he was sitting in previously.