Not Part of the Job [Closed]

[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] It had been about 2 months since Geneve had spent all her savings to get from Micqueot to Lvneel Kingdom in an attempt to finally escape any chance of her aunt and uncle finding her. There was no way in hell she was going to let them make her settle down with some pompous jerk they thought was “suitable” for her to wed. If she hadn’t ran away when she had she’d be sitting in some fancy house most likely pregnant with whatever child she was expected to have. Instead she was currently lying on her back behind the bar of a pub, face dotted with smears of grease as she worked to fix the bar taps. She was also getting a slow drip of some kind of alcohol dropping down on her cheek. She’d pause every now and then in her work to wipe her face with a rag sitting by her tools. Due to her position half under the counter she had no sight of anything aside from the lower cabinets behind the counter. She couldn’t see anything going on out in the pub, and they most likely couldn’t see her either. Noises from the few patrons in the quiet place could easily be heard, though Geneve was tuning them out to the point where she didn’t have a clue what was going on. She wasn’t even paying attention to the barkeeper as he went about his business serving customers with the alcohol on the back shelves. There was probably someone at the counter being served as she was finishing up her repairs. She had to remove one piece and quickly replace it with another, and as she was removing it she realized there was still alcohol in the pipe because it dumped down onto her face, shortly followed by the piece that slipped out of her wet hand and hit her right between the eyes. “Bloody hell!” Geneve held her hand to her face for a moment before quickly getting the new piece on. Carefully she slid out from under the counter, wiping her face with her rag as she stood up. “Right, right, the bleedin' job’s done. So where's me pay?” Geneve turned her one-eyed gaze on the barkeeper. In response the somewhat pudgy man pulled a pouch of money out from a drawer on the counter and tossed it over. She caught it deftly and stuck it in her coat before kneeling down to collect her tools and put them back on her belt.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] [style=background-color: #F1F1F1; background-attachment: scrolling; height:100px; width:100px; padding:10px; border: 1px dashed #CCCCCC;][/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]WORDS[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]419[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]TAGGED[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Drake[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]NOTES[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Gen's first trial post is done, and tagged it for Drake even though he's not made yet[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]CREDIT[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]VENICE of OTE[/style]

[Drake Crosswind Tenebrae]

A fairly average start to a fairly average day, as Drake walked through a town in the Lyneel Kingdom, still looking for information on his search for the Eight Branches. He'd heard rumors of a man in the North Blue, carrying a blade that conjured tornadoes from a single swing, or call down lightning with but a thrust. Everything about the rumor made Drake feel it was definitely a Branch, so he was trying to find as much info as he could. Managing to end up in the Lyneel Kingdom about a month after first leaving his homeland, Drake was in unfamiliar territory, and sill quite on-edge. While he'd studied the wildlife and plantlife of various islands and countries, he'd not gotten the chance to study the cultures and customs, so he felt like a fish out of water in the bustling urban setting. Even in the capital, Puita was a very rural country, spread into clans, tribe, and the like. The only true city was, in fact, the capital, and even that wasn't much more than a glorified village with a castle. But, if he was to travel the world, he'd have to get used to the sheer number of people.

After a few hours of wandering and asking around, Drake was directed to a local pub, being told that it was the best place to gather information. So he headed inside, looking around warily at the crowd inside the building, before focusing on the bartender. "I heard this was the place to come to for information. I'm looking for a man travelling with a sword that makes storms. Have you heard anything?" He asked simply. In response, the bartender laughed aloud, before giving a verbal response. "Lad, around here, ya want information, ya gotta win a wager. Yaknow, put up or shut up. That kinda shit. So ya still want yer info, ya make a bet. Doesn't matter what it is, doesn't matter what on. Ya just gotta win." Hearing the response, Drake grinned. He hadn't much money left to his name, having just about exhausted the travel funds his parents supplied, so he'd have to wager something else. Something more valuable. "This sword is an heirloom of my family, worth a hundred thousand Beli at the bare minimum. I'm willing to wager it against anyone willing to face me in a sword duel. So, are they any brave enough?" His tone was fair and calm, but the very nature of his words exposed a very strong, dominant pride in his skills. He knew he wouldn't lose.

[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] As Geneve finished collecting her tools and moving out from behind the bar a man came in and posed a wager to anyone in the bar. The reward was a very large sum, enough to have Geneve set for a quite a while and even get her all the way home. Unfortunately for her though, the wager was for a sword duel, and she was a gunner. Guess for now I’ll just stick to odd jobs. She silently sat down at the counter and waved the barkeep over to order some food. It had probably been well over a full day since the last time she ate anything, though she never bothered to keep track so there was no way for her to be sure. All she knew right now was that working on those taps had gotten her hungry, and she had some time before she needed to get back to work on her schematics. She’d been staying at a nearby hotel since coming to this kingdom, and so she’d made the hotel room her basis of operations for any work she did. By this time she’d tuned out of the noise in the pub again, so she didn’t know if anyone had accepted the stranger’s wager or not, and frankly she didn’t really care. She didn’t know him, he wasn’t bothering her, and so it wasn’t her business. Instead she just quietly waited for the food she’d ordered to be placed in front of her. I’ll need to pick up some extra food on the way back to the hotel as well. Hers wasn’t the only mouth she had to feed.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] [style=background-color: #F1F1F1; background-attachment: scrolling; height:100px; width:100px; padding:10px; border: 1px dashed #CCCCCC;][/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]WORDS[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]273[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]TAGGED[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Drake[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]NOTES[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Really hate clearing cookies sometimes.[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]CREDIT[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]VENICE of OTE[/style]

[Drake Crosswind Tenebrae]

Within a span of about ten minutes, Drake had been challenged by nearly every male in the bar, and a few females. All had some skill, but Drake bested each one in a single swing. They weren't proving much of a challenge, but it was easy enough money, since he collected about a thousand Beli from each one he bested. He was out for himself first, but he wasn't cruel enough to bankrupt somebody over something trivial. He just wanted funds to get by on his journey. After trouncing many of the locals, Drake went to sit at the bar, when he heard a loud rustle to his right, and a thud of heavy, angered footsteps.

"Hand over the sword, or I kill the girl! You don't want her blood on your hands, do ya?" One of the men had gotten up the gall to take a hostage, the young pink-haired woman who sat at the counter, and held a knife to her throat. Drake glared at him, and, without a word, rushed in in the blink of an eye, the edge of his sword to the man's throat, just barely pressing in, and making an incredibly small cut, blood starting to seep out. "I'll give you five seconds to drop the knife and let go, or it'll be your blood on my hands. I'm entirely willing to rend your head from your spine in a second. Your call." He said, a deathly chill to his voice.

[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] Thanks to being tuned out of whatever was going on in the pub, just as Geneve’s food was set in front of her, she was grabbed from behind and pulled onto her feet. The feeling of a cold blade pressing against her throat made her instinctively lift her head up a bit. Because of the apparently very large wager the stranger who challenged everyone had made, she’d gotten dragged into the mess for no good reason aside to be used as a bargaining chip. Just bloody wonderful. A very annoyed look plastered on her face as the man pressed her against him. “Hand over the sword, or I kill the girl! You don’t want her blood on your hands, do ya?” …Well ain’t this just bloody luvly then. Before she knew it she was sandwiched between her assailant and the stranger. He had a sword at the other man’s throat, and Gen realized he wasn’t much taller than herself; maybe a couple of inches at best. Luckily for her, he wasn’t on her blind side so she didn’t need to even attempt turning her head to get a look at him. She had to admit he was handsome, though a bit on the short side. Granted, she wasn’t one to be out looking for a relationship, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the good looks when she saw them. He certainly looked better than she did; going by how she looked in mirrors she was certainly no catch. She figured part of her mind kept her too busy with work to worry about looks as a stab at her aunt and uncle’s attempts at grooming her into a “proper” woman. Today she was certain she looked worse than normal as well. There were grease and booze streaks on her face, her visible eye had bags under it, and she probably didn’t smell the best from working all morning doing repairs around town. Then again, the man who had her held hostage smelled worse so it was unlikely anyone would notice how she smelled at the moment. As well as the fact that normal people didn’t rely on smell as much as Geneve did; being half blind tended to make you appreciate your other senses a bit more. The stranger was close enough she could get a whiff of his scent as well. He smelled of leather and metal, two aromas that Geneve could appreciate quite a bit considering they were smells she grew up around in her parent’s workshop. While she was going about her up close assessment of the situation, the stranger gave her assailant a warning to let her go or lose his head. He sounded like he meant it. She didn’t dare move to try and get herself out of the situation with a knife blade so close to her throat though. Instead she opted to just be patient and wait for her assailants reaction.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] [style=background-color: #F1F1F1; background-attachment: scrolling; height:100px; width:100px; padding:10px; border: 1px dashed #CCCCCC;][/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]WORDS[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]489[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]TAGGED[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Drake[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]NOTES[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Wow, my first decent length post of the day.[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]CREDIT[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]VENICE of OTE[/style]

[Drake Crosswind Tenebrae]

The large man scoffed, spitting to the side. "Bah, ya ain't got the guts, brat. Off me, and me mates'll be all over yer ass in a matter o' minutes. And is it really worth all that not to hand over one little sword?" He heckled, staring Drake down as much as he could with the sword to his neck. Drake didn't make a sound or even budge until he began to speak, still in a very plain, emotionless voice. "The lives of men are a precious gift from the gods, and yet you'd throw away your own and take away that of another over something as trivial as another man's possession? Pitiful." He said, pushing a little more with the sword, just to cause a strong twinge of pain, and using it to quickly disarm the man, throwing the knife to the ground. "Now, miss, you may step away. I'll be removing him shortly." He bowed lightly, without moving the sword even a millimeter.

[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] Once the blade was removed from the vicinity of Geneve’s carotid artery she quickly, but calmly made her way back to her seat. She was perfectly fine to let the two men settle their differences while she filled her stomach. For once she could actually feel hunger gnawing at her as she picked up her silverware and began to eat. If one of them died she really wouldn’t feel any guilt. She had not caused the situation, and even if she had, neither of them were of any importance to her. It would be a shame if the handsome one got himself hurt. That was life though; full of disappointments and broken dreams. She knew this all too well, but she wasn’t the type to just roll over and not do what she could to make her situation as best as possible. That required long work hours and little time for personal feelings. She knew if she could just make it back to her home she’d be able to be happy again. She just had to work hard and get the money to pay for a voyage of that distance. She’d tuned herself out of the surroundings again, preferring to have as much relative quiet as possible as she ate the small meal.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] [style=background-color: #F1F1F1; background-attachment: scrolling; height:100px; width:100px; padding:10px; border: 1px dashed #CCCCCC;][/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]WORDS[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]213[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]TAGGED[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Drake[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]NOTES[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Short post, but not much needed to happen for her lol[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]CREDIT[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]VENICE of OTE[/style]

[Drake Crosswind Tenebrae]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:500px;,bTable][STYLE=width:200px; height:400px; float:left; background-image:url(http://img62.imageshack.us/img62/4240/joshie2.png)][classy=lyrics][STYLE=font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:7px]no bend in me[/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]NO MOCKERY[/style] [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]words[/style]412 [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]tags[/style]Geneve [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]notes[/style]A show of mercy[/classy][/style][classy=blah1][classy=sc][classy=blah2] Remaining silent, Drake stepped back, resheathing his sword and dropping into a stance. "Take up a suitable weapon, and I'll give you a chance to make up for your mistakes. A duel. You win, you can have the sword. I win, you never show your face in this pub again, and reimburse me for my wasted time. And don't think of trying to decline. It's not an offer, it's a demand. Try to leave and I'll simply cut you down and take my compensation myself." He said, retaining his monotonous manner of speech. Pulling out a large sword from a sheath on his hip, the man snorted and laughed. "Alright brat, yer on. I'll teach ya a lesson real good about disrespectin' yer elders." With another snort, he charged at Drake, who merely stood his ground, a smirk forming on his lips. "Falling Leaf Style; White Ash's Whisper" In an instant, Drake drew his blade, swinging a strike up and knocking the blade from the man's hand, then resheathed his sword to strike the man across the chest, knocking the wind out of him. However, Drake wasn't finished yet. "Falling Leaf Style; Valley Hidden in the Forest" With a slight movement of his feet, Drake spun around behind the man, trusting his flat hand into the man's back with overwhelming force. With a grunt and a thud, the man crashed into the ground, completely incapacitated. "Now then, I'll be taking my compensation. Fifteen thousand Beli, five for my time, and ten for not slaying you. A mere pittance for your life, I'd think. You should thank whatever god you hold sacred that I decided to spare you pitiful life, and make an effort to better yourself." He said with a bit more emotion showing, not condescension as one would think, but honest pity and a desire for the man to make something of himself. However, he didn't hesitate to walk over to the man, pull out his wallet, and remove his fifteen thousand from it. Immediately after, Drake walked over to the young woman that the man had grabbed, bowing a bit with his hand holding his hat in place. "Are you okay? No cuts or injuries? I couldn't live with myself if an innocent bystander was harmed because of my actions. Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Draker...er, Drake. Drake Tenebrae. It's a pleasure to meet you." He spoke, almost letting his real name slip for a moment. [/classy][/classy]

[STYLE=opacity:0.5]LAIKA OF BTN![/style]

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[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] Despite having naturally better than normal hearing, Geneve still didn’t hear the man who saved her walk up. This was most likely due to the fact she was still zoned out and focusing on her meal. When she heard him ask if she was alright she turned her head; swallowing one of the last bites of her meal as he proceeded to introduce himself. She had a few bread crumps at the corner of her mouth as she replied, “I’m arright. Me name’s Geneve.” She paid no mind to his slight slip during his introduction; she wasn’t a stranger to keeping out of sight of certain people. Damn, right, I should probably stop tunin' out of evryfink so much, she thought to herself wryly as she set her silverware next to her plate. There wasn’t too much left on said plate, and she wasn’t feeling the bite of hunger anymore, so she didn’t see any point in finishing the meal. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to going without food for a few days at a time. Her aunt and uncle had learned pretty quickly that depriving her of food to try and get her to “behave” would have absolutely no effect since she’d picked up the habit on her own.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] [style=background-color: #F1F1F1; background-attachment: scrolling; height:100px; width:100px; padding:10px; border: 1px dashed #CCCCCC;][/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]WORDS[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]211[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]TAGGED[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Drake[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]NOTES[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Another short post because Gen is a woman of few words.[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]CREDIT[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]VENICE of OTE[/style]

[Drake Crosswind Tenebrae]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:500px;,bTable][STYLE=width:200px; height:400px; float:left; background-image:url(http://img62.imageshack.us/img62/4240/joshie2.png)][classy=lyrics][STYLE=font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:7px]no bend in me[/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]NO MOCKERY[/style] [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]words[/style]0211 [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]tags[/style]Geneve [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]notes[/style]And now the barkeep's scared of him.[/classy][/style][classy=blah1][classy=sc][classy=blah2] Drake bowed lightly, a genuine smile on his face. "I'm glad to see that you're uninjured. I've been told I'm something of a reckless fighter. I don't quite see it, really. You must have been rather shaken up from that brute taking hold of you like he had. It infuriates me when a man cowardly tries to take a hostage." He spoke, showing more emotion now that they was no adversary. The woman was rather interesting to him, having shown no fear despite the lethal weapons having been within an inch of her throat. After a short moment, Drake remembered why the fight started in the first place, and turned to the barkeep. "Ah yes, I do believe that would be quite sufficient. I made a wager, and I emerged victorious. So, do you have any information for me?" He asked, giving a wry smile. The barkeep shuddered, and replied quickly. "Y-yes...well, no. I don't have any, but I know someone who does. I'll just...I'll just go get him." he said, running off. Sighing, Drake returned his attention to the woman. "So, all that aside, you don't look like a local, judging from your appearance. Might I ask from where you hail?" He asked, smiling with an honest curiosity. [/classy][/classy]

[STYLE=opacity:0.5]LAIKA OF BTN![/style]

[newclass=blah2]float:right; width:200px; height:350px; margin-top: 15px; margin-right: 15px; background-color:160000; color: b8b8b8; padding:10px; font-family:arial; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; letter-spacing:1px; line-height:10px; overflow: auto[/newclass][newclass=sc ::-webkit-scrollbar]height: 5px; width: 5px; background-color: #151515;[/newclass][newclass=sc ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #e5e5e5; border-left: 1px solid #e5e5e5; border-top: 1px solid #e5e5e5;[/newclass][newclass=blah1]float:right; width:250px; height:400px; float:left; background-color:1a2218[/newclass][newclass=lyrics]width: 190px; height: 40px; margin-top:350px; background-color: 1a2218; color: ffffff; padding: 5px; font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; text-align:right; letter-spacing:7px; line-height:15px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-transition:all 0.7s ease; -moz-transition:all 0.7s ease; -o-transition:all 0.7s ease[/newclass][newclass=lyrics:hover]width: 190px; height: 390px; margin-top:-0px; background-color: 1a2218; color: 2d0007; padding: 5px; font-family:arial; text-align:right; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:2px; line-height:15px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-transition:all 0.7s ease; -moz-transition:all 0.7s ease; -o-transition:all 0.7s ease[/newclass]

[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] Geneve calmly scooted her plate aside and set her arms crossed over the table. Drake didn’t seem like a bounty hunter, though she wouldn’t put it past her aunt and uncle to send one after her. The cynical side of her mind argued that he could be using his charm to get her guard down. She adjusted her eye patch slightly before answering, “I'm from Macchina di Terrano.” The thought that Ratchet was probably starting to get hungry back at the hotel crossed her mind. She knew she’d need to leave soon so the poor creature didn’t get cranky from being hungry. He was not pleasant to be around when he was in a sour mood, even for Gen. Then she remembered she still hadn’t bought more food for the copper colored cat. “Damn, right, I need ter buy more cat food,” she muttered quietly as she brought her hands up to her face and laced her fingers together. Having the cat was a financial burden, but she was not going to just abandon him. He was the only creature she actually had any semblance of trust for. She started counting up her total money in her head, contemplating how much she could feasibly stock up on cat food for the little poop factory.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] [style=background-color: #F1F1F1; background-attachment: scrolling; height:100px; width:100px; padding:10px; border: 1px dashed #CCCCCC;][/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]WORDS[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]214[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]TAGGED[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]Drake[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]NOTES[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]lol poop factory[/style] [style= border-bottom: 1px dashed #CCCCCC; text-transform: lowercase;]CREDIT[/style][style= text-align:right; background-color: #F1F1F1; padding-right:2px;]VENICE of OTE[/style]

[Drake Crosswind Tenebrae]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:500px;,bTable][STYLE=width:200px; height:400px; float:left; background-image:url(http://img62.imageshack.us/img62/4240/joshie2.png)][classy=lyrics][STYLE=font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:7px]no bend in me[/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]NO MOCKERY[/style] [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]words[/style]IDFK [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]tags[/style]Gen [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]notes[/style]Can't be arsed to wordcount. Funny old guy.[/classy][/style][classy=blah1][classy=sc][classy=blah2] Drake nodded and gave a light, honest smile. "Ah, I believe I read about that land once. So very different from my homeland. I'd love to see it some day." He smiled, before noticing the barkeep come back in, with a rather scraggly-looking older man in tow. "This is the man. He's got the info ya need." The barkeep said, stepping aside as the elderly man stepped forward with shaky steps. "Kihihi, so ya wanna know about the Rain Man, do ye? Well, I'll tell ye. He passed through a few weeks ago, made a huge storm, and left riding a cloud. Strangest feckin' thing this old codger's seen, fer sure. Headed off to the west, he did. Best to look that way." The old man laughed, before starting to walk away. Drake bowed, before voicing his appreciation. "Thank you, kindly elder, for the information." The old man laughed loudly, responding to Drake. "Don' thank me, and don' call me elder. Just git yer young ass out there and make somethin' o' yerself. And stay the hell off ma lawn." Another laugh, and the man exited the bar. Turning to Drake, the bartender sighed. "Alright, ya got the info, now I'ma need ta ask ya ta leave. Nothin' personal, but yer scarin' off my regulars." The bartender motioned towards the other patrons sitting at the bar, none closer than three seats from Drake. Drake himself bowed, and replied promptly. "My apologies. I'll vacate the premises immediately." [/classy][/classy]

[STYLE=opacity:0.5]LAIKA OF BTN![/style]

[newclass=blah2]float:right; width:200px; height:350px; margin-top: 15px; margin-right: 15px; background-color:160000; color: b8b8b8; padding:10px; font-family:arial; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; letter-spacing:1px; line-height:10px; overflow: auto[/newclass][newclass=sc ::-webkit-scrollbar]height: 5px; width: 5px; background-color: #151515;[/newclass][newclass=sc ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #e5e5e5; border-left: 1px solid #e5e5e5; border-top: 1px solid #e5e5e5;[/newclass][newclass=blah1]float:right; width:250px; height:400px; float:left; background-color:1a2218[/newclass][newclass=lyrics]width: 190px; height: 40px; margin-top:350px; background-color: 1a2218; color: ffffff; padding: 5px; font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; text-align:right; letter-spacing:7px; line-height:15px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-transition:all 0.7s ease; -moz-transition:all 0.7s ease; -o-transition:all 0.7s ease[/newclass][newclass=lyrics:hover]width: 190px; height: 390px; margin-top:-0px; background-color: 1a2218; color: 2d0007; padding: 5px; font-family:arial; text-align:right; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:2px; line-height:15px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-transition:all 0.7s ease; -moz-transition:all 0.7s ease; -o-transition:all 0.7s ease[/newclass]

[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] It was really only coincidence that Geneve got up to leave at about the same time Drake was told to leave. She wasn’t paying any attention to the business of those around her again, preferring to keep to her own and get by on her own hard work. It was one of the Macchinan traits she had. Silently, she placed money on the counter to pay for her meal before briskly walking toward the door. The light outside was bright, and she had to squint a bit to help adjust from the dim light in the pub. Looking around for a moment, she got her bearings and began heading toward the market. She needed a bit more supplies for herself, and plenty of food to feed Ratchet. Thankfully, once she finally got enough to take a ship off this island he’d have plenty to eat by catching the rats that would surely be on the ship. That didn’t help while they were on land though, so she needed to get a good supply of it for the remainder of their stay here. She let her emotional guard down for just a moment as she got to the market, letting out a small sigh. It had been so long since she’d seen her home, and she had no idea how much longer it would take her to earn the money to get there. Maybe, if she could find an airship headed there she’d have a better chance. Unfortunately that was highly unlikely, especially so in a place with no air port for one to dock in. She hadn’t bothered to pay attention to anyone that might be following her. After all, a lot of people headed to the market throughout the day, so it was common for someone to follow her before going their own way once at the marketplace.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] WORDS 309 TAGGED Drake NOTES Ok, last post today before a food break CREDIT VENICE of OTE

[Drake Crosswind Tenebrae]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=style, width:500px;,bTable][STYLE=width:200px; height:400px; float:left; background-image:url(http://img62.imageshack.us/img62/4240/joshie2.png)][classy=lyrics][STYLE=font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:7px]no bend in me[/style][STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]NO MOCKERY[/style] [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]Dun care[/style]000 [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]Gen[/style]somebody [STYLE=font-family:georgia; font-size:25px; letter-spacing:-2]notes[/style]a short note here[/classy][/style][classy=blah1][classy=sc][classy=blah2] After leaving the pub, Drake strode off, heading to the market to acquire supplies. He'd need food, materials, and sleeping gear. Especially since his last set was torn apart by a bear. Remembering this, he swore under his breath, doublechecking his travel funds and swearing again. He doubted he'd have enough, and he didn't have time to waste trying to earn more. He just hoped he could handle haggling with some of the merchants to lower their prices. Without noticing, Drake was following closely behind the pink-haired woman from before. It seemed they had the same destination, so it wasn't much of a surprise when he bumped into her, his stride having been longer than hers, causing him to walk quite faster than her. "Oh, my apologies, I didn't see you there. Are you quite alright?" [/classy][/classy]

[STYLE=opacity:0.5]LAIKA OF BTN![/style]

[newclass=blah2]float:right; width:200px; height:350px; margin-top: 15px; margin-right: 15px; background-color:160000; color: b8b8b8; padding:10px; font-family:arial; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; letter-spacing:1px; line-height:10px; overflow: auto[/newclass][newclass=sc ::-webkit-scrollbar]height: 5px; width: 5px; background-color: #151515;[/newclass][newclass=sc ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #e5e5e5; border-left: 1px solid #e5e5e5; border-top: 1px solid #e5e5e5;[/newclass][newclass=blah1]float:right; width:250px; height:400px; float:left; background-color:1a2218[/newclass][newclass=lyrics]width: 190px; height: 40px; margin-top:350px; background-color: 1a2218; color: ffffff; padding: 5px; font-family:arial; font-size: 12px; text-align:right; letter-spacing:7px; line-height:15px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-transition:all 0.7s ease; -moz-transition:all 0.7s ease; -o-transition:all 0.7s ease[/newclass][newclass=lyrics:hover]width: 190px; height: 390px; margin-top:-0px; background-color: 1a2218; color: 2d0007; padding: 5px; font-family:arial; text-align:right; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:2px; line-height:15px; overflow:hidden; -webkit-transition:all 0.7s ease; -moz-transition:all 0.7s ease; -o-transition:all 0.7s ease[/newclass]

[Geneve Champ]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width:275px; padding:15px; border-left: 10px solid E6E6E6; vertical-align:top;] Quite to her surprise, Geneve found she was almost run over by someone obviously in too much of a hurry to walk around her. The bag on her back jostled, the sound of metal parts hitting one another coming from within it. Her mood turned slightly foul as she spun around to confront whoever had nearly bowled her over. Who she saw made her want to facepalm at her luck. It was the redhead from the pub whose stupid actions had nearly gotten her killed. He was lucky she was in a mood that didn’t want to bother with people or she might have punched him in his stupid face. Instead, she narrowed her eye in annoyance, and spoke in a clearly aggravated tone, “Oi! Wot are yer, blind?” her accent sounded ever so slightly thicker in her annoyed state, another characteristic Macchinan trait. She let out an annoyed huff before continuing, “Yor lucky I don't 'ave time for this right now.” She turned on her heel and began to walk off, hoping her callous and angry tone would keep him from bothering her further. Unfortunately she really wasn’t that good at interacting with people, so she’d likely be wrong.

[atrb=style, padding:10px; width:115px; background-color: #E6E6E6;][atrb=valign,top] WORDS 200 TAGGED Drake NOTES How did I get exactly 200 words? CREDIT VENICE of OTE