The Salt Spears Meet: Accidental Cults

[Kami-Gaz]

Mika Gooddog was lost in her own little world as her focus was on enjoying the food that was presented to her. She was not like Mr Chase who could talk before eating, he must not have been that hungry if he could put off eating to say all those words that seemed to be coming out of him. Her ears did flicker and react when he explained how exactly he got the watch and the reasons why he took it. So the dog was right he took it from an even badder man that deserved to lose the watch… He stole it or something which was just wrong.

The angel’s plate was mostly clean when chases chin stopped wagging but that was when Mr Bassa’s started to move, replying to man who was named after what Mika did to squirrels when she was on islands back when her family was around. As that thought passed though her head the movement of her tail slowed remarkable, and the power behind it all but left as it limply swayed behind now. This was all wiped away when the cook’s gaze fell on her and he addressed her formally.

“Hm!?” She looked up from the plate, that was now thoroughly cleaned and licked to a level of spotlessness that would make some people question if food had ever been placed on it in the first place. “Oh, Mr Moustache? No… Not really. He never said his real name, but he said if I did things, he said I could get money and he would tell me what I needed to know about the people who killed my family and left me for dead.” She said, her chipper tone sliding away as her reasoning for doing what the slimy moustache man said.

“All I had to do was show people my wings and let them touch it and use the salt on them to heal them of the poison air.” The girl spoke, flexing the wings that were attached to her back to their full length in the street. As they stretched further into the smog the blaze grew brighter and more brilliant. The halo that was on her head was now only burning dully, the air around them was a lot cleaner just by the fact that Mika had been there for so long. “OH! Do you want some of my salt to cook with?! I bet you can make some super healing foods with it Mr Bassa!” Mika said before turning to chase and grinning.

“You too Mr Squirrel Hater! I can give you some salt too! The air here is really bad so you can use it to make it go away! Well only for a short time, but you will feel better.” Mika explained to chase as she concentrated on her halo that was dimly glowing above her head and made the salt pour forth into her hands. After a moment she thrust the hands out to the man.

[Bobbie]

Chase watched the chef as he seemed to be quite bothered by the story that came with the watch. His own curiosity was burning for more answers, but Mr Rosencrantz’ decision to spare them of those ‘grittier details’, as he put it, ensured that Chase’s remaining questions would not be answered today. He offered a gentle nod in response. Although he didn’t seem to know the man from whom he had snatched the shiny item, it was easy to assume Bassanio’s comments were accurate, even if based on the stranger’s appearance alone. He had a certain air to him that even Chase couldn’t bear to swallow.

As his plate was emptied, although not licked clean – unlike his fellow diner who sat beside him, he was not in the dishwashing profession – he turned to look at the girl who had been addressed.

It seemed the longer he was in the company of these people, the more questions he had. Mr Moustache… that must have been the man he had seen earlier on at the gathering. He stood at the front by Mika’s side, announcing her magical powers to draw in the crowd. What showmanship… his entire business was based on a performance, and the most disgusting part of it all, was that it wasn’t even his own! He relied on this poor girl, creature, whatever she is, to lure people in and make a profit off her back.

Vermin… the powerful who have any influence on the general population is nothing but vermin.

The rose-haired young man took a deep breath and sighed out his disappointment for this society. The kind that didn’t want to open their eyes and be free of whatever spell was upon them. The worst kind. While his purpose was to drive master Ghouil's legacy forward, his dream was to live in a peaceful world where there was no such thing as an underdog. That required making people realise who the abusers were, but in this day and age, the abusers were the ones running the show. As his gaze fell low, he found himself empathising with this girl, it seemed that she too had lost everything. The difference between them was that she was naïve enough to fall into the clutches of this Mr Moustache, while he wandered alone.

He’d never consider himself naïve enough to be so easily manipulated, but who’s to say- no. No, Master Ghouil has taught him to be above this.

The irony in that statement was clearly lost to the masterless apprentice.

Then the salt was shoved in his direction, some of it spilling out of her palms and across the counter, the little white beads rolling off its surface and into his lap. His initial reaction was a grumpy frown as he looked down and began to dust it off his trousers, but his features soon softened as he had something like an epiphany.

This is it. This is what has been missing…

Raising his head once more, he stared at her with an excited grin, the tear mark beneath his right eye crinkling ever so slightly as he smiled. “No more being taken advantage of!” he replied – which was not much of a reply to her question at all.

He suddenly stood up and grabbed the left side of his jacket to swing it open, revealing the many dolls and miniature marionettes that were hanging on the inner lining. “I can’t share Master Ghouil’s art with the world if people are not willing to open their eyes and see it, but with your salt - mood-lifting mannequins and air-purifying dolls - those will get the people’s attention. They’ll flock to purchase such things! Honest creations that will bring them some genuine good!” He rambled on, excited at the prospect of finally making money while improving society, as well as carrying on his master’s legacy, or what he thought his legacy was, anyway.

“If Mr Bassanio adds some of your salt to his delicious food, as you suggest, it will be the talk of the entire island. Maybe even further!” he extended an arm in a theatrical spin to imply the distance as he looked at the man who just filled their stomachs. “You continue to do what you love, you cook for people and nourish their bodies, but with Ms Good- with Mika’s salt, you get to do more! You can nourish their souls, their hearts, cure people of whatever ailments.” His palm slammed onto the counter in a passion that Chase hadn't had in a long time - finally, there was hope. He grinned, turning to Mika once more and taking a pinch of the salt she had offered up.

“And none of this goes without credit to this magnificent girl, who gets unlimited snacks and food and entertainment, without having her showcased like some objectified trophy!” He sprinkled some of the salt, letting it slip through his fingers. With a slight frown, he watched the salt disperse and get blown away so easily, wasted.

“Mr Moustache can get stuffed. If he’s not going to treat you well, he doesn’t deserve to be in your presence. I will personally be happy to put him in his place if you’d like me to.” He shrugged lightly.

It was fair payment, and he was willing to do what it takes to rid himself of his downtrodden status.

---

Chase: #eacce2

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #6}

---

This venture… It doesn’t sit right, Bassanio thought as he listened to Mika’s explanation of Mister Moustache — a man whose identity had been ignored and whose purpose seemed only to be to make a profit at another’s expense. The chef’s hands, hidden behind the counter, partly tensed into fists. Promising knowledge about a person’s family’s whereabouts in exchange for cash? Despicable, his mind continued, jaded enough by his own past to hone in upon the glaring flaws in this tale of supposed kindness. He tried to look at the positive side where there was one: At least she was being paid a portion of the earnings and, in a sense, her power was being used positively, even if it sounded like it was behind a paywall.

“No more being taken advantage of!” Chase piped up as Mika offered a handful of pure white salt, much to the chef’s surprise. Just where did that come from? An impromptu speech began to roll from Guillard’s tongue, quite a grandiose one at that, which at first did little more than solidify Mister Rosencrantz’s opinion of the man. “Honest creations that will bring them some genuine good,” continued the rambler, before targeting him with his bold claims. “But with Mika’s salt, you can nourish their souls, their hearts, cure people of whatever ailments…”

^{“That seems…,” Bassanio spoke:
“Perhaps a little extreme…?”}

He held the thought.

“You do make a point, however,” the blond gent followed, curiosity piqued by the otherworldly properties of this saline creation. Salt was a valuable commodity, especially amongst cooks, where the ability to cure ingredients that would otherwise grow stale or begin to rot often made the difference between a good meal and a case of food poisoning. Not only that, but just a pinch could do wonders to a dish’s flavour — he was loath to imagine what this salt could do but entertained the prospect all the same.

“If you wish to offer this blessing, Mika, then I implore you do so fairly and at your own discretion; not because an individual is promising information that he may or may not have, after all,” Bass spoke, finding his opinions of Chase to be the ball in a game of squash at present and seeing that he perhaps did want to improve. “People can and will lie if it suits them — some don’t even have an honest bone in their body — and an honest, kind-hearted person would have willingly provided the information at no cost…”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:}
<sub>Bassanio is a little surprised by Chase’s speech, but assures Mika that her caretaker may not be as good a man as he seems.

Notes: ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika | #99bbee
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Miscellaneous [NPC] | #eeeeee | #bbbbbb | #888888 | #555555

[Kami-Gaz]

When Mr Squirrel-Hater had made his announcement that there was to be no more being taken advantage of Mika snapped her gaze to him and listened intently. He went on about using her salt to make people happy, to help them. Using the salt in new ways she never thought of before, like in his dolls and in Mr Bassa’s cooking. Those were fun ideas! Then he said that he will would be happy to stop Mr Moustache from using her in a malicious way. That was good, before she opened her mouth to reply Mr Bassa did.

It was extreme? Maybe but Mika didn’t really know what was too much and what wasn’t… but the cook did say that Mr Squirrel Hater had a point. There was a lot to consider and do, she wanted to heal everyone good and bad and let them breath but this poison air was so thick it joined the clouds and covered the entire island.

“Are you saying Mr Moustache is a Bad Man? He keeps telling me now isn’t the time when I ask him about it. That is very cat like.” She noted leaning forward onto her elbows after letting her wings fold into her back to rest there again. There was a look of concentration on her face as thoughts skimmed through her mind and the dull light of her halo slowly began to burn more like her wings now that they were not as extended as they were. It was times like this she would just want to howl at the moon when she thought… the problem was with smog this thick no one could see it… there were bound to be people on this island that had never seen a night sky.

“I want to howl at the moon…” She grumbled before a great big grin spread across her face, it spread . “Can I ask you both for help? I want to make everyone feel better and I want to howl at the moon… so why don’t I just burn away all the poison?” She asked getting more giddy excited as the verbal spewage carried on.

“I want to beat up Mr Moustache for being a bad person and I want to do this! I cant do it alone I need help and I like you two… Can we burn the sky?” The angelic dog girl asked, looking between the two men at the small food stand that was out of the way, a small clear beacon in this acrid air. 

[Bobbie]

Chase watched Bassanio as he spoke – and what a skilful orator he was! Some of the chef’s vocabulary was lost on Chase, a mixture of confusion, frustration, and pure focus written all over his face; but he soon nodded and turned to Mika. “Yes, yes, what he said! Someone honest and kind would do so willingly…”

Then there was the other speaker in this exchange – Mika, whose language was on the complete opposite end of the sophisticated-language-spectrum. Her language was not only more simplistic, but the logic of it required some kind of inside knowledge that needed decoding in order for it to be well understood. It had already become clear that her words were often spoken with some form of analogy to a dog’s life and experiences, which made sense given her appearance and her last name… if it really was her last name. She’d already called him a squirrel-hater, now Mr Moustache’s behaviour was described as cat-like. He did not share the sentiment, he personally liked cats, so he chose not to comment.

One thing was certain – Mika’s energy was contagious and it seemed to spread to Chase as the more excited she got, the more excited he seemed to get as well. He was fired up!

“You can have all the help you want from me!” he nodded, although he did want some of her salt in return – but could that really be considered payment or even a condition? It was for a common goal, so it should hardly be seen as such, and there was no way he was going to allow himself to be placed on the same level as ‘Mr Moustache’, the self-serving deceitful worm. Therefore, it will not be payment.

“Let’s howl at the moon!” he shouted in response to Mika’s request as if this were some kind of chant in a protest, as the grandiosity of the situation was only getting more and more out of hand, the pair perhaps feeding on each other’s energy. “Let’s burn away all the poison!” he continued, repeating whatever she said. “Let’s beat up Mr Moustache!” he added, shaking his fist, “Let’s burn the sky!” he finally concluded, before realising what he had just said. “Let’s what?” he paused and turned to Bassanio. It seemed he would be the most logical of the newly formed trio, and so in an instant it became his responsibility to prevent anything reckless from ensuing, a task that seemed to become increasingly more daunting.

“Are we burning the sky?” he shifted his attention between Mika and Bassanio now. The man with the fanciest language he had ever heard – surely he could and would do something to stop this, right? If it needed to be stopped, that is…

---

Chase: #eacce2

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #7}

---

Her energy’s contagious… Bass noted, listening to what the others had to say and resigning himself to silence for a moment as he tried to comprehend it all. There was absolutely no doubt about it: Mika was canid through and through. What he didn’t anticipate was for Chase to share in her enthusiasm — to howl, to cleanse, and to enact violence — and it very much seemed like it was falling upon the chef’s shoulders to balance this all out.

^{“Let’s what?” Chase questioned:
“Are we burning the sky…?”}

“Some of those acts may be a little extreme,” he replied. “However,” came the continuation as he took a moment to take a deeper breath, “I’m definitely not against helping the people should they need it. The air here is poison, as you said, and while it may not be killing anyone quickly, it’s certainly ruining their quality of life. Not all are so lucky as to be able to endure this.” For a moment, he eyed the pristine white granules of salt, the finest grains seeming to smoulder with an ethereal glow like that of the last embers of a hearth. A question crossed his mind, but he dared not to entertain it just yet.

“Hmm,” Mister Rosencrantz hummed, casting chalky blue eyes to the heavens above, whose hues were obscured behind layer upon layer of smog. “I’d rather not pursue somebody just to harm them for their deceit — violence isn’t an answer to corruption,” he confirmed with a sagely nod in regards to personal tenets. His rather mundane expression twisted into one of bemusement for a moment or two, mostly at his own use of such a movement, before returning to something more natural.

He eyed the salt again.

^{“Mika… You wish to do good?” the blond began:
“Then, if so, perhaps demonstrate to the people…”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:}
<sub>Bassanio finds himself being a voice of reason for both Chase and Mika, but asks the latter to demonstrate.

Notes: ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika | #99bbee
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Miscellaneous [NPC] | #eeeeee | #bbbbbb | #888888 | #555555

[Kami-Gaz]

As Chase got wrapped up in the moment of her rousing speech the girl shifted her form yet again, growing in size rapidly and making the stool beneath her creak under the weight as two more pairs of wings sprouted out behind her and caught ablaze as they stretched out. The halo above her head radiated more as smouldering salt poured from it to form a mask on each side of her face again. Mika knew she could burn the air here, all she had to do was scale it up. The salt arms that had formed the last time she entered this form didn’t appear this time, no instead two large cones of salt extended out behind and then into an orb a couple metres from the travelling food cart.

“I can burn it, watch. Mr Bassa, Mr Chase.” She spoke, a voice less childish but still earnest in tone. The dome of salt that was burning a brilliant white around them suddenly exploded out, spreading the purifying blaze out into the street and over the air. In a moment the blaze vanished and the resulting area was smog free… for a couple of moments at least.

“I… I need help so we can do it everywhere at once. I don’t think Mr Moustache wants that because he cannot make people pay him then. So we need to make him stop doing that.” Mika’s form shifted, reverting into the more child like visage of her half form. The salt masks shopped onto the counter in two smouldering mounds. The smog was already encroaching back into where the small group was, but in this short time Mika’s wings did not burn once, they were just a pair of brilliant white feathered appendages.

“If the people see that they will know there is help and not everyone is as bad as Mr Moustache.” The dog-eared angel spoke again, happy and smiley as her head waved side to side and her feet kicked. “Can you two talk to Mr Moustache with me? I don’t want him to trick me again.” The smog had returned to mask this trio of planners.

[Bobbie]

Chase felt obliged to move a little to the side and make room for the angel’s wings. They were magnificent, but it wasn’t entirely out of admiration for the glowing figure that he did so. Despite the feathery appendages seeming so welcoming to touch, he genuinely did not want any contact with them. Perhaps it was due to his mechanical limbs, but he wasn’t one to be drawn to the soft and fluffy – the only limitation to his body that he wished his master could have done differently.

“It’s not just for the sake of violence. The people need to be educated.” He muttered to the chef, eyeing the seemingly stoic man who looked to the sky for answers. On any ordinary day, Chase would have made a mental note of how ridiculous people looked when they did this, but today, after meeting Mika, it was fitting. There were a couple of reasons to look up to the sky, whether it be as some clichéd representation of hope or to visualise the smog disintegrating and clearing up to reveal and gloriously clear blue sky, a sky that so many citizens here have never had the opportunity to witness. His head involuntarily tilted back and he found himself looking upward toward the clouds of pollution for some time, which he only realised when he heard Bassanio’s suggestion. Demonstrate?

Resuming a more level position of his head, a subtle frown revealing his disapproval of conforming to such a gesture, he watched Mika, before his gaze swiftly darted over to the salt. The young man’s frown was soon washed away as the salt was burnt in a brilliant explosion and he felt the rush of clean air. He hadn’t realised what a relief it would actually be on his lungs until he got to breathe it in himself, amazement etched on his face.

“That’s… Yes! We can do this everywhere at once.” As the excitement and enthusiasm returned, Chase’s mind went on with so many possibilities; but a specific one lingered. He could make charms out of his dolls, his marionettes, his figurines! All he needed to do was infuse them with salt and a possibility for them to burn without Mika’s presence. That should be easy – he could create some form of arterial system within the doll’s bodies that would be flowing with some form of flammable liquid. Nicotine was usually his liquid of choice, that substance was usually easy to find, considering the high demand for it. The stuffing could be a mixture of salt and sand, ensuring that once the salt is all burnt up, the figurine will retain enough material on the inside to prevent it from becoming a malformed version of its former filled self, much like a deflated balloon.

“They will know. They will see the great things you can do with your salt, the possibility of a better future, and recognise the mastery of the Great Ghouil’s work!” he added in a grandiose act of spreading his arms out as the last living representative of the mastermind, all credit to his own work automatically placed on his creator, by default. “Think about this…” he opened his coat to unhook a smaller fabric doll and held it out in his hand. It looked somewhat patchy, but there was a certain beauty and elegance to the colourful stitch-work, handcrafted by a genius with a needle and thread who could make art from nothing. “So many children out there beg Mummy and Daddy for toys… what if their parents could gift them more than just a stuffed toy, but an air-cleanser. Something small – smaller than this one.” He shook the doll which his fingers were wrapped around, “One that could be carried everywhere, and with just a little push of a button, a simple ignition, and – “ he slammed his other fist onto the doll’s belly to create a soft thud as the poor creation’s insides surrendered to the force of the man’s knuckles. “Poof!” he spread his fingers and moved his hand in an arch away from the doll. “Your magical salt burns and the child has their own little bubble of air that is clean and safe.”

He glanced at Bassanio, then down at the doll that just endured a bludgeoning. “It won’t burn forever, it will be like… well, more of a ritual kind of thing, like burning sage or something like that, but it’s a place to start.” He shrugged and looked up at his company again.

“If this works, we can set up stations around the town… it will take a bit of piloting, refilling, the general upkeep, but we can really make this entire town clean.” He suggested in a completely serious tone. Was it ambitious? Yes… but that didn’t make it impossible. He took a deep breath and dramatically raised a hand to his chest, looking at Mika. “I will be happy to accompany you to Mr Moustache to make sure he won’t be tricking you again in any way.” Then he turned to Bassanio, “And there will be no unnecessary violence.”

---

Chase: #eacce2

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #8}

---

Bassanio’s frown was visible when Chase critiqued his opposition to violence, but the chef remained quiet and contemplative of what Mika had said. With a grain of salt, literal and metaphorical, he even dared to entertain the ideas of a suddenly very ecstatic Chase. Simply put, he recognised such vigour — the energy that permeated the inventor’s words and gesticulations — for it was an energy he too had once shared in abundance. In a sense, he still did. The wonderment of creation for the betterment of others on a greater scale had often been the driving factor of his father’s profession.

He eyed the salt again.

Salt’s effective as a preservative and for its antibacterial properties, but this functions differently, he pondered, curiosity piqued still by the grains’ tendency to glow dimly in Dauntaun’s air. His neck complained a little from the changes, but once more did Mister Rosencrantz cast his gaze upwards to the smog-filled skies, scanning the tops of buildings that surrounded them. No, we need to think bigger if we’re going to make an impact like Mika wants — I’m just not sure how to achieve that, he continued mentally, allowing Chase’s babble to continue until the toymaker once again turned his focus to Mika’s primary quandary.

“And there will be no unnecessary violence,” he’d added, focusing on the blond just as he’d turned to face him. Chalky blue eyes narrowed as he met Chase’s gaze. An electrical buzz of heated tension persisted for a moment until the cook allowed himself the chance to blink.

“Given this city’s industry, each and every doll you make would simply be a temporary measure. The same could be said of any meal I attempt to cook with this,” Bass explained, theorising and criticising both Chase and himself in the process. With due swiftness he made sure his stall was properly packed up, everything secured before he took a chain and bound it to a nearby bollard. Better to be safe than have his livelihood stolen away in a moment of absence. “This salt can purify any toxin — external and perhaps even internal — but then there’s the issue of effectiveness,” he mused.

“I do agree, though,” Bassanio nodded, fetching the two hiltless rapiers from his cart and securing them at his hip, alongside a small dagger — all three blades sheathed. “We should perhaps focus on Mister Moustache first, before we allow visions of grandeur to get to us,” he added, focusing on Chase for a moment before turning back to Mika. “I’m sure he’ll be searching for you as well, Mika, so it shouldn’t be too hard for two interested parties to cross paths… Might you be able to recognise his scent?” It was as he asked this very question that he realised how odd it might have sounded, but he was rather sure the angel before him was a canine first, a divine beast second…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:}
<sub>Bassanio and Chase butt heads a little as they debate possibilities, but both quickly focus on solving Mika’s own issues first.

Notes: ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika | #99bbee
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Miscellaneous [NPC] | #eeeeee | #bbbbbb | #888888 | #555555

[Kami-Gaz]

Chase was the first to react to Mika’s wishes to howl at the moon and he launched into a sales pitch after witnessing that Mika could cleanse the sky. He had a fever to his words, a plan and conviction that was almost as infective as Mika’s own contagious energy. There was one problem though… after all of his words he planned on giving dolls to people and to slowly clean the air. No that wouldn’t work, to see the moon from anywhere here everything would need to be done at once… and to stop it getting this bad again the cause would need to be stopped as well.

Bassanio interjected, pointing out that it would be slow and at best temporary, it put thoughts in the dog angels head, but they could be followed up on later. Mr moustache was the bigger problem at the moment, he was manipulating her and all the people on the island. He had to be told that was not going to happen anymore and that Mika was not a tool for him to use.

“I can sniff him out!” Mika spoke to Bassanio, jumping off of the stool she was sat on and as she did her entire form shrunk down into one of a large white shepherd dog. Her big black nose glinted in the fading light of her vanishing flames of purity and scrunched at the foul smell of the smog coming back to it. “Ohh, I forgot to mention that I am a dog… I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, some people don’t like me being a dog.” She spoke, tail wagging with her words and sniffs of the acrid air filling the gaps between her words.

“This way!” She announced before trotting forwards with a pitter patter of clawed paws carrying their owner off down a street, expecting the pair to follow her. “Mr Chase, I want to clean all the air in one go! I want everyone to be able to howl at the moon from anywhere… they cant do that in the small pockets you want to make. We need to go really really big!”

[Bobbie]

Chase stared right back at Bassanio as the heated tension buzzed between them, refusing to look away first. Once Bassanio blinked, Chase finally averted his gaze and crossed his arms, while the chef went on. He started off nodding to what the blond said, but he flinched as if his words could transform in the air as they left his lips into a physical jab at his pride – a temporary measure? First of all, who does this guy think he is to call MY work temporary!? Secondly… somehow, even with his intrusive thoughts rattling away in his head, the young artist could still hear Bassanio’s words. Well… at least he has the decency to criticise his own trade too. He silently thought to himself. Although none of his thoughts were vocally expressed, his facial expression could expertly communicate his annoyance nonetheless.

His eyes then fell on the two rapiers that the man drew from his cart and secured at his hip. Those were interesting weapons, a bit simplistic, but unique in the fact that they had no hilt attached to them. He let his arms hang by his side for a moment before he caught Bassanio looking directly at him, and so he stared back at him, easily meeting his eye-level if not being slightly above it.

“What’s wrong with having ‘visions of grandeur’?” he mimicked the chef’s own voice as he quoted his words. “I say, ‘visions of grandeur’…” he did it again, “are what really set the ball rolling. ‘Visions of grandeur’ are the fuel to the greatest minds to ever exist! ‘Visions of grandeur’ are the goal to strive for and without that you have no passion!” he shrugged and stuffed a hand in each of his large coat pockets. Following Mika’s confession, he gestured toward her, “Being a dog with such a huge goal is a ‘vision of grandeur’. It’s nothing to be uncomfortable about, it’s something to admire!”

It wasn’t until Mika seemed to agree with what Bassanio had just said earlier that Chase softened up and he rolled his eyes with a shrug. “Fine, fine, temporary fix – but see, even Mika agrees that we need to go big! That said, I’ll slow down if somebody can’t keep up.” He passed a glance toward the chef with a subtle smirk on his face as he walked after Mika, their new trusty leader, very well aware that the ‘somebody’ in his statement could only mean one person.

As they all walked, Chase noticed the odd crowd of people here and there, many of which, he had no doubt, would have some interesting pocketed items for looting. His hands still in his own pockets, he glanced at his two companions – he knew nicking things from civilians would be frowned upon by both of them, but the urge was so irresistibly strong. Taking a gloved hand out of his pocket, the one that was further away from his new buddies and and now open for a gentle brushing with a passer-by’s pockets, he slowed his pace just enough to drift away from Bassanio and Mika, just a little.

---

Chase: #eacce2

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #9}

---

“What’s wrong with having ‘visions of grandeur’?” Chase questioned, mockingly, and much to the chef’s dismay as he began an awkward tirade — an ode to eccentricity. Even as he stood there and listened, albeit irritated, Bassanio couldn’t help but at least agree a little with the man’s words. Passion in one’s craft was important, no doubt, but there were aspirations and then there were pipe dreams. Sometimes, in his youth, Bassanio had failed to see the difference.

He knew better now.

^{“Some people don’t like me being a dog…”}

^{“It’s something to admire,” Chase responded:
“Even Mika agrees that we need to go big…!”}

“I’ll be honest, Mika, the fact that you’re a dog doesn’t make too much of a difference to me,” Mister Rosencrantz nodded as he and his awkward rival of worldly ambition began to follow in the fluffy canid’s wake. “In fact…,” he continued with a pause — an allowance of time with which to parse and promptly ignore Chase’s most recent jab. “I’d argue the fact you’re a dog only makes this easier for me to join your ordeal,” the swordsman nodded, having momentarily lost track of his non-canine company in his periphery, but giving no further concern. Chase was a grown man, even if he’d acted childishly; he didn’t need a babysitter.

“I at least hope Mister Moustache proves to be somewhat amicable,” Bass added, keeping his focus on Mika as she sniffed her way through the streets and dividing his attention as necessary to avoid collisions with pedestrians…

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SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:}
<sub>Bassanio and Chase follow Mika, but continue to find each other difficult.

Notes: ——</sub>

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Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika | #99bbee
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Miscellaneous [NPC] | #eeeeee | #bbbbbb | #888888 | #555555

[Kami-Gaz]

The tippy taps of clawed paws walking down the street were muffled by the sounds of a crowd of people milling about and slowly moving away from where Mika had been earlier. She was now following the scent of one man through this acrid air. It would be difficult for most dogs to do something this advanced with their nose but not for Mika, she had developed a nose that could sniff out bad fish from good ones when they were hauled on to the boat her family lived on. That was to protect them! When they hauled in hundreds of fish to eat and take to land where they gave it to people who needed the food a bad fish could make someone very sick.

Hearing Bassanio state that he only really joined because she was a dog was something that helped her stay at ease. He smelled like a man who struggled to trust other people, but who couldn’t trust such a good dog?! “I hope Mr Moustache isn’t mean to you both.” The dog spoke as she weaved through the throng of people like a leave in a stream.

It wasn’t long before she came upon the man in question. Tall and gangly in his limbs, Mr Moustache was putting money he had collected into sacks whilst the guards around him ushered people away with grunts and occasional growls to those that thought the angel was still present. He did not even notice Mika standing right by him as she spoke up. “Mister! I am back and I want you to be nicer to everyone around!” She demanded, putting her front paw down in a show of determination.

“What? Mika! Darling! I am being nice to everyone! They get to see you when you don’t run away to fill your stomach without my say so.” He grumbled down to the dog, standing tall and leaving his large sacks of money by his feet. “You up set a great lot of people by flying off as you did! They couldn’t come and give me the money to touch your wings!” He growled with his shaggy suit covered arms crossed over his chest.

The dog shifted and glowed as her form changed into that of her hybrid form. “My friends here say that is not nice. People should not need to pay to have my salt and what you are doing is mean. To me and to the people here.” Mika spoke, gesturing towards Chase and Bassanio. “Mr Bassanio and Mr Squirrel hater are here to help me tell you to stop being a bad man.” Mika spoke with a low growl.

As she stood there now in her hybrid form her wings were pressed to her back but still burned brilliantly in the smoggy air, a bright flame on her back that cleansed the air around her into something pure and clean. Something the man was trying to take advantage of.

The moustached man growled back and huffed as he leaned down and picked up his bags of cash. “Mr Bassanio and Squirrel hater?” He asked incredulously, almost laughing as he gazed over to the pair with a raised brow, and his free hand plucking at his twirly moustache. “Are you sure they won’t be bad people and lock you up in a cage? Hurt people that don’t deserve it? I need money to live and if the people of these plebeians want to be see my dog they should pay me for that privilege.”

The man looked back to his men. “Oi Goons. Deal with these people who are trying to steal my mangey mutt. And teach her that disobeying me means people get hurt.”

[Bobbie]

Chase followed the pair, pocketing a few small items from passers-by who got too close to him. It was nothing grand, but among the spoils was a particularly delicious chocolate wafer that he planned to save for later.

His hands buried in his pockets, the sight of Mister Moustache captured all of his attention and drew it away from the feel of his prizes, tucked away in his large pockets. He raised an eyebrow and eyed the worm down – “I can see why you call him Mister Moustache, that slab of mud on his face is downright offensive.” He muttered, shaking his head, but soon recoiled as the dog shifted into her hybrid form with a light that was almost blinding and would take some getting used to.

The young artist frowned as this man mocked the name that Mika had given him. Sure, he didn’t like it at first, but it was growing on him and this pig had no right to be so dismissive of it. “Yeah, I hate squirrels, and right now you’re looking a lot like a very filthy stray that needs to be taken back to the shelter.” He snapped at the man already taking out his weapon and not giving his words or his actions much of a second thought.

Chase held a ring on each end of his garrotte in each hand and pulled it taut in front of him, “Come here, come here, you diseased rat!” he taunted the man, confidently – regardless of whether he had the skills to back that confidence up or not, but he clearly believed he did.

A quick head count was all he needed to determine how many goons would be charging at them, then he focused on the one who dared step forward to face this mighty trio first. Unfortunately, Bassanio’s previous words of avoiding violence were completely lost on Chase as he grabbed the first opportunity to strike back at their aggressors.

As one of the goons came at him, following the command of Mister Moustache, the first attack that was launched was a hefty punch, as the man’s large fist aimed to pummel right through Chase as punishment for running his mouth. With a swift motion, the cyborg threw his arms up and in one circular motion of his right hand, had his garrotte coiled around the man’s thick wrist before he spun on his heel to pull the man into a full 360 twirl, driven by the thug's own momentum.

The man cursed as he was pulled against his will, unable to stop until a full cycle was complete and would leave the man staggering with a severe case of vertigo and nausea. What Chase didn’t seem to account for was the fact that his garrotte was now tightly wrapped around the man’s arm – and he needed it back.

As the man collapsed to the ground in a complete loss of balance, Chase got pulled down with him.

“Crud… give it back!” Letting his guard down entirely to any other attackers, he pressed his foot into the man’s chest to keep him down, as he was clearly already recovering from his dizzy spell, and he pulled at the ribbon to try and retrieve it.

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Chase: #eacce2

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #10}

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“I hope Mister Moustache isn’t mean to you,” Mika spoke, expressing concerns. Concerns that Bassanio silently hoped would not come to pass — civility was something he wished for in their endeavour. But, dare he curse them with spoken words? No. The only sound that escaped his mouth was a soft exhalation. Truly, he was as prepared as he ever could be, but he didn’t know for what. Expectations versus reality. His jaded mind privy to the sometimes harsh aspects of life, but still he silently hoped.

He watched.

Just one look at this man and I can tell what sort of person he is… Am I that much of a veteran in these things already? Unfortunate, Mister Rosencrantz pondered, standing at a respectable distance. Close enough that nobody was going to walk between himself and Mika, far enough that the angelic canine could make her desired stand, and ready enough to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Though he stifled it, the blond scowled. All Mister Moustache cared for was clearly the profits and his own status. For a moment, his focus was so intense that he failed to realise Mika’s own burning passion eating away at the foulness of the air itself.

^{“Mr ‘Bassanio’ and ‘Squirrel-Hater’?”}

^{“Yeah,” Chase snapped:
“Come here… you diseased rat!”}

“Mm,” the chef grunted, taking a moment to partake of the air freshened by Mika’s burning brilliance as his chalky blue hues settled upon what he thought had been a suspiciously present man. Suited, but not smart in his appearance, a bruiser a couple of inches taller than himself had stepped forwards on command, not unlike a trained mutt. “O, how the tables have turned,” Bass uttered, loud enough for the assailant reaching for him to hear. “Where grown men are leashed and dogs run proud and free,” he mocked, not even caring to draw any of his blades — a disgrace to do so versus unarmed opposition.

^{“Ya heard da boss,” he said:
“Now scram…!”}

^{“And if I were to refuse…?”}

“Then Oi’ll pulverise ya– Huh?!” What had started as a fierce overarm from the goon had ended rather abruptly, resisted by little more than Rosencrantz’ own hand as he grasped the man’s forearm, having sidestepped enough to avoid the blow on the off-chance. “What the f– Waah!” With a surprising degree of elegance, not to mention an astounding display of strength, Bassanio twisted the man’s arm in such a manner as to force him to the ground. Where once he had stood, the grunt now lay on his back, arm twisted uncomfortably as the chef released his grip.

^{“It’s not theft,” he spoke:
“If the subject is willing…”}

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SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:}
<sub>As Mika makes a stand against Mr Moustache, Chase and Bassanio defend themselves against the crook’s goons.

Status:
• Goon #1: Floored, Conscious, Unharmed</sub>

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Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika | #99bbee
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Mr Moustache | #ffffff
Miscellaneous [NPC] | #eeeeee | #bbbbbb | #888888 | #555555