The Salt Spears Plan: Growing Fame

[Kami-Gaz]

Mika scrunched her nose as she plodded along with Chase and Bassanio, how Chase had described these pubs was not pleasant at all. The fact her ears might also suffer made that wagging tail slow down and droop behind her form a little as she continued. Then Bassanio chimed in and gave his interpretation of what a pub was. And he asked if she had ever been to a Restaurant…

“No….” She spoke softly as he carried on explaining what those were and that a pub was like that but cheaper and with drinks and friends. That sounded way more fun that what Chase had described them as! “I want to go to a pub with you two all the time and make more friends!” She yipped before a slam rumbled the street ahead of them. This must have been a person that drank too much.

Alcohol was a poison and Mika knew she could burn it out of people after an incident with the marine that rescued her. She pattered up to the boozed-up labourer and win a flash became a girl with wings, she flapped her wings in his direction and as the flaming entities touched him, he was engulfed in the purifying fires of her salt. Before the flash had finished, she had returned to her normal form. The man and his awful song barely saw her approach from behind, so the blinding flash was gone before he noticed and his tune shifted from somewhat awful to a passable rendition of binks’ brew. His stupor had stopped but the aching in his head would still be there.

Pattering back to the pair she heard Mr Bassanio beckoned the group to come in with him, the dog did so, humming away her own version of the song that was being sung just moments ago. ”Bow wow wa wa wow bow wa wow wow.” Her tail wagging away as she stuck close to her friends going through the door. Some places did not like dogs entering so being close to friends could help.

---

Post: 6

Mika: acd1fc

Mousie: efff9b

Leenie: ffd1f6

[Bobbie]

Chase glanced at Bassanio as he was urged not to put much hope in the man’s familiarity with the patrons of the local pubs. His hands in his jacket pockets, his bony shoulders rose in a casual shrug, but he didn’t say anything and merely listened to the man’s delicate explanation of what a bar was. It was worded a lot more eloquently than he had put it himself, but he somehow preferred his own explanation - it felt like a truer representation.

“There, see?” he blurted out as a man was sent rolling out of the pub, as if it proved his own mental note. “A lot of people overdo it, and then this sort of thing happens which makes the entire experience unpleasant for that person and others in their company. They either become violent or simply a nuisance.” Chase seemed to finish off Bassanio’s explanation, before Mika made her way toward the drunken man. Standing beside Bassanio, he watched the dog take control of the situation, transforming as necessary to restore his blood alcohol levels in the chap's system while not curing the effects of a hangover. Looking away to say something else to Bassanio, he paused when he noticed the chef grimace. At that point, he realised that there was really no need to put forward any further arguments against such establishments and their most frequent visitors who tended to cause trouble. It was clear from his body language that he wasn't particularly eager to set foot inside either.

As Mika returned and Bassanio prompted them to enter, Chase felt a knot in his stomach, his fingers anxiously fidgeting with his garrote in one pocket and the other with some loose thread that had already suffered through ruthless tugging and twisting.

Walking through the doors of The Smithy’s Arms Pub, the young man looked around, anxiously eyeing all the people about and all the pockets to pick. Offering silent words of encouragement to himself, he tried his best to dismiss the growing tension and hide it from both Mika and Bassanio. “Right… okay,” he sighed, “Now what? Do we split up?” The clear dislike of this environment that was previously expressed was only further reinforced by the clear discomfort that Chase was showing, although it was for a different reason.

---

Chase: #eacce2

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #6}

---

Mister Rosencrantz’ confused curiosity led him through the doors of the establishment, his companions sticking close for reasons he couldn’t currently care to consider. It was unusual of him to tunnel so heavily on a single possibility, that much was true, but he still spared some attention to his surroundings. The usual rumblings of such an establishment floated in the air as tidbits of mundane conversation mixed into the scent of beers and ales, the likes of which he imagined weren’t being too kind on Mika’s nose — they weren’t on his, either.

^{“Now what?” Chase asked:
“Do we split up…?”}

“Stick together for now, I suppose,” Bass answered, noting the tension in the man’s voice as he seemed to resign himself to the confines of his coat. “Better not to stir the pot too soon. Blend in a little, if possible. Besides, if I’m right…” As he approached the bar, his own paranoia felt eyes upon him — odd looks from workers enjoying a day off in the pub with their friends, travellers with less expensive tastes sharing simple meals that he could barely discern. Still, he sidled up to the counter where a few other patrons stared into their tankards or exchanged the cyclic conversations typical of folks addled by alcohol. He rested an elbow upon the polished yet worn wooden and rapped his knuckles upon it.

“Welcome to The Smithy’s Arms. What can I do for… you–?” A strong, broadly built, but none too fat man of about six feet and four had been behind the bar, back turned as he tended to washing some glasses and dishes in the sink. He’d grabbed a towel and wiped the soapy water from his hands as he turned, only for his at first grumpy expression to light up in surprise. “No way is it… Bassanio?!” He was a man with a round and jolly face now that a smile had taken hold of it, a thin moustache upon his top lip and a dark complexion that accentuated small eyes of emerald green. Dressed in a rather simple yet neat mix of shirt, trousers, and chequered apron, it was a far cry from the prim and proper attire he had once donned, but certainly suited him.

“A pleasure to see you again, Lorenzo,” the blond replied, his own dull expression breaking into a soft smile as the barkeep brushed back his own thin, black hair. That sharp hairline of his had certainly receded a little more since their farewell all those months ago, exposing a more prominent widow’s peak, but it would be remiss to say it didn’t suit him.

“Th– The pleasure’s all mine, sir!” he stammered merrily. “Glad to see you looking healthy, but, pardon me if I might ask, what brought you here of all places? …Oh! Excuse me, pardon my manners,” Lorenzo chirped, realising that Bass was not without company and extending a large but surprisingly clean hand to Mister Guillard. “I’m Lorenzo, current barkeeper and chef of The Smithy’s Arms, and a friend and former employee of Mister Rosencrantz! Pleasure to meet you, sir! Oh? And who’s this wonderful bundle of fuzz?” he asked, leaning over the counter enough to offer a warm smile and head pat to Miss Gooddog…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:—}
<sub>Bassanio enters the pub and finds former employee, Lorenzo, working there!

Notes:— ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika Gooddog | #acd1fc
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Mousie Ericsson [NPC] | #efff9b
Lorenzo [NPC] | #6eb974
Old Frosty [NPC] | #a7137f

[Kami-Gaz]

The odd trio made it into the public house with only a few stares from the bouncer and some of the patrons at the dog as it happily tippy tapped up to the bar with Mr Bassanio and Mr Chase. She heard the plan the food preparer had and just carried on, splitting up now would just cause trouble. Not many people reacted well to talking dogs, well older people at least. They all tried to chase her to catch her and sell her on. It was always a surprise when she turned into her big form and decked them.

The man behind the bar greeted Bassanio then realised who he was talking to and changed in many ways. First he looked kinder and secondly he smelled just happier. If Bassanio knew the bar man then this was going to be really easy. It didn’t exactly take Mika aback but it did curve her muzzled mouth in to a smile. It was always nice to have old friends… it reminded her of old man rusty she used to run into before she lost her family.

“Oh? And who’s this wonderful bundle of fuzz?” The man asked as he leaned over the bar to peer down at the large white fluffed dog that was looking up at him with a tail that wagged with a speed and strength that made the floor rattle with its power. She had sat when they arrived at the bar to look comfortable.

“I’m Mika Gooddog!” She exclaimed, as she did, she jumped up and rested her front paws on the bar and leaned her head in closer. “I’m that angel people like to talk about…” She whispered before giggling and looking around over her shoulders with an exaggerated tongue flop to look goofy and cute. “Should be safe.” She again spoke softly.

In a instant her entire form shifted and changed, where once stood a dog leaning on the bar was now a young looking tall girl with folded salt crusted wings and a pale halo above her head. “See!” She spoke with a giggle, bouncing softly on the spot. Parts of the salt on her wings ignited and then fizzled out quickly as whisps of the smog from outside that had mixed with cigar smoke caressed her wings. The halo had a similar effect, causing small flashes of intense light.

“Mr Bassanio and Mr Chase here are good friends. Thank you for being a good person Mr Lorororororzo!” She spoke, not being able to grasp the bar man’s name properly. Human speech was still something that tripped her up sometimes, but she was getting there!

---

Post: 7

Mika: acd1fc

Mousie: efff9b

Leenie: ffd1f6

[Bobbie]

As Bassanio gave his advice to blend in a little, Chase scoffed. “Right, right…” he muttered, considering such a task quite impossible - and he was quite right, though not for the narcissistic reasons his mind went to. He didn’t have the manner of a drinker in the slightest, nor did he walk with the confidence of a man about have a cold pint and unwind. In fact, it was quite the contrary as the young man with rose-coloured hair couldn’t make himself seem any smaller, his shoulders tense beneath his blue coat and his arms pressed to his sides. He looked as if he had been frozen in the middle of a shrug as he followed his companion to the bar. If anyone were to give advice on acting natural, it would be the very opposite of Chase’s behaviour.

While the chef and the man on the other side of the counter exchanged words, Chase idly scanned this new person who was supposedly a friend to Bassanio. First his face, it didn’t seem particularly memorable to him - at least it wouldn’t be if not for the colour of his eyes that shone like fine jewels. Then his gaze fell upon the man’s outfit that was nothing out of the ordinary at all, though a fair choice for a bartender. It set him apart from the clientele, undoubtedly, and suggested that he had more class to him than most of the people in here sitting at his tables. Ironically, it was the hideous chequered apron that he wore that truly did this, as it marked him as a man not to walk around with tarnished clothing, very much like Bassanio. He protected his outfit, just as he would protect the contents of his pockets upon which Chase's thoughts began to wander.

The tension in his muscles was only slightly eased, however, once he was addressed, the young man’s gaze rising to meet that of the barkeeper who had just extended his large hand toward Chase. With slight hesitation, he brought one hand out of his pocket to slide it into Lorenzo’s, before his other hand came out to grab his hand as well and offer a firm hand shake.

“Chase,” he said, with a smile, as the apron made more sense to him now - he did not only serve drinks. “Former emp-” he anxiously began to ask about the past work Bassanio used to do with this man, but it seemed that something far more eye-catching and adorable caught Lorenzo’s eye, as before he could get through two words of his question, the large man with a friendly round face had released his hand and was leaning over the counter right before him to greet the little furball that was Mika. In less than a second, Chase’s heart began to race as he was filled with an overwhelming urge. Unable to resist the temptation with an opportunity so open to him, he let one hand glide over Lorenzo’s trouser pocket, swiftly slipping into it and back out to hook a finger on whatever was inside.

It was all over in a moment as Chase withdrew his hand and moved out of the way just a bit for Mika to have a spot and talk with the man. His hands back in his pockets again, he let out a soft sigh as a huge sense of relief came over him and his shoulders finally relaxed for the first time since setting foot inside this establishment.

Avoiding looking at Bassanio, he kept his eyes on Mika, following the conversation while he fidgeted with the item that left Lorenzo’s pocket and now occupied his to try and figure out what it was.

Very little distraction was necessary, it seemed to Chase, as Mika did a good job of making quite the spectacle and attracting attention toward her, as her sudden transformation even surprised him despite having already seen it before. When she referred to Bassanio and himself as good friends, he offered a smile and a gentle chuckle as he felt pangs of guilt run through him. Then he slowly turned around with dread to see what kind of reaction her shift in form would elicit from the patrons at this bar.

---

Chase: #eacce2

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #7}

---

Of all the things that had to be done, Mika had to speak, her chirp and cheer doing quite a bit to stir the attentions of the bar’s patrons as she hopped up and transformed. Bassanio flinched somewhat at the sudden transformation, still far from used to the nuances of the canid curiosity, but Lorenzo was visibly startled and receded before coming to his senses. Idle muttering, chatter, and other stirrings from the pub floor had quietened to little more than whispers now, and the chef could feel the eyes of yet more strangers upon the back of his head as he rubbed his face.

^{“I– Wha…?”}

“My apologies, Lorenzo,” Mister Rosencrantz waved, “she’s quite excitable. But yes, she’s exactly who she says she is. Now, I hate to draw the conversation short, especially after so long, but we’re here on…,” he continued, hushing his tones so much that they were barely audible to his own ears, but the motions of his lips clear. “‘Special business’.” The burly barkeep scratched his temple with one finger, processing it for a moment longer than he normally would have needed—the side effect of being sprung upon by a divine canine—before sweeping his eyes across the pub.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! No need to stare,” he spoke up, voice filling the establishment with a certain commanding resonance that quickly turned blatantly gazing eyes back to their own conversations, meals, and drinks. “Etiquette be damned in this city,” he grunted, rolling his eyes as his face took on that same friendly smile from before, this time mixed with some intrigue. “Right, so, what’s this venture of yours, Bassanio? Colour me intrigued…”

“Well…,” Bass began, looking at Mika first and foremost. “It’s Mika’s idea, rather than my own, I’ve just found myself being taken along for the ride, alongside Chase. She’s not too fond of the atmosphere here, the clouds and the smog that seem to turn everything sour to the palate.”

^{“Hmph,” Lorenzo nodded:
“I can’t say I disagree…”}

“Fortunately, her ‘abilities’ seem to be capable of purging the airborne toxins. I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but the air seems a little more fresh in here,” the gentleman suggested, prompting Lorenzo to take a deeper breath of the public house’s stale, alcoholic, smoky air—air that seemed far less pungent in proximity to the girl with burning wings and halo. “Our goal is to apply this all across the city, clearing the air, if only until the industries fill the sky with pollution again. We have some assistance in this endeavour, but we need more people—those equally dissatisfied with the way the industries of Dauntaun are destroying it all. So,” Bassanio finalised, clearing his throat a little as he realised his attempt at being persuasive had done a little more to his emotions than he’d believed, “do you have any suggestions? Disgruntled workers who happen to be patrons? Local friends?”

Lorenzo chuckled.

“This is quite the change from the Mister Rosencrantz I used to work for, you know? Believe it or not,” he said, speaking more to Chase and to Mika than to the chef himself, “there was a time when his greatest dreams were a lot more humble. Times have changed for both of us since then, isn’t that right? Heh. Well, I can think of a few folks here right now that might join your cause: Those two young men propping up the end of the bar are always complaining about their jobs, and the old codger in the corner I know has been through a fair few of the factories in his time,” Lorenzo explained, highlighting a few individuals of interest.

^{“Thank you, Lorenzo,” Bassanio said:
“I’ll see about persuading them–”}

“Oh, no you don’t! It’s been months since we last talked and the lull’s just starting! We’ve got some catching up to do,” the portly man laughed, fetching some coffee beans and a couple of mugs in what seemed a singular motion. “I hope the two of you don’t mind—and I don’t mean to keep you from your goals at all—but I’d like to have a personal chat with this fair gentleman…!”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:—}
<sub>After explaining the objective (vaguely) and getting some information, Bassanio is forced by social cue to spend some time catching up with Lorenzo!

Notes:— ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika Gooddog | #acd1fc
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Mousie Ericsson [NPC] | #efff9b
Lorenzo [NPC] | #6eb974
Old Frosty [NPC] | #a7137f

[Kami-Gaz]

The conversation between Mr Bassanio and Mr Lorororororzo was surprisingly nice to see! The fact that they had known each other and Lororororozo worked for Bassanio was even better. It gave Mika’s smile that shine she always seemed to have when she was happy. Her still fluffed up dog tail wagged softly behind her as she basked in the glow of the mood these two men were emitting… it was just comfortable. The fact the man was willing to help was all the better!

“Thank you, Mr Lorororozo!” The angel spoke as she bounced up and down on the spot, her tail now going even crazier as it smashed into Chase with every back swing of her wag. Her wings quivered with her excitement and she turned to look over to the man her tail had just thwacked. “I’ll go and talk to the old codger!” She said with a grin with some gusto, letting Chase go and handle talking to the youngsters that the big jolly man had mentioned. She was not exactly quiet as her words could be heard by nearly everyone.

In seconds before a reply could come her bare feet could be heard bumping over the floor before she stopped and shivered. “Sticky…” She spoke with a childish cringe, her tail and wings also shook making salt fling everywhere, most of it burning away when it got a good distance as toxins in the air touched it. Everything that fell to the floor went up in a big poof of flame as the alcohol was purified. “Chaaaase! I need some socks or something people wear for the next bar!” She called, wanting to trust that man with finding her a nice pair, the things he wore on his feet looked nice.

A few more careful steps later the angel sat on the stool next to the old man, thin and grey with his thinning hair. His skin was wrinkled like mistreated leather and pale from lack of sunlight. He looked sickly as he cradled his beer and watched the girl with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not interested girl.” He spoke in a soft tone, bitter and full of annoyance.

“You remind me of Rusty.” She said before holding out her hand and watching the man with that same soft smile. “He looked old and grumpy like you… he also cared a lot.” She carried on, comparing this man to an old dog she used to know. “You have the same eyes.”

The old man stared at the girl, biting his lip and chewing air for a moment as he took in that last statement. Who was this girl? Was she really that angel that had been causing all the commotion over the last few weeks? Getting people to pay her money to touch her wings? “Rusty?” He asked, again raising his brow to the girl, his rumble of a voice carrying a western twang. “Looks like I share the name of that old friend of yours.” He spoke before taking a swig of his drink.

“Ooooh!” Mika exclaimed before getting the biggest grin. “I loved Rusty he always gave me the best advice!”

---

Post: 8

Mika: acd1fc

Mousie: efff9b

Leenie: ffd1f6
Old Man Rusty: ce5a3d

[Bobbie]

While he stood there, Chase’s attention was divided as he tried to take everything in - what he heard, what he saw, and what he felt. It was a lot, and this was the main reason why he avoided places like this one. While he processed Lorenzo’s words, he was grateful that the man was also addressing Mika, as it meant that all of his focus would not be on him and the additional strain that he wasn’t sure if he was showing as he tried to act natural.

Then Mika called his name and he was snapped right out of whatever had his mind trapped, as she was suddenly a couple of steps away from him. With a frown, he looked down at her bare feet and then he chuckled.

“We’ll get you some socks and shoes…” He uttered, before turning to look at the younger pair of workers that Mr Lorenzo had pointed out and made his way over to them while Bassanio had been snatched by the barkeeper. As he reached the end of the bar where they both stood, he kept his hands in his jacket pockets, nodding to them in greeting as he quickly eyed them for anything of interest on their persons.

They each had a drink in hand and were chatting among themselves, making fun of their employer as they made there disdain for the woman extremely obvious.

“What do you want?” one of the two immediately addressed Chase as he approached so awkwardly.

Chase flinched at the aggressive greeting - had this been any other situation, he would have bitten the man’s head off for being so arrogant and insolent, but that would not serve their purpose, currently. “Couldn’t help overhearing you talking about your working conditions…”

“Yeah, and? What are you some kind of undercover representative?” the other lad chimed in before the pair chuckled. “Sent by Lady Wicker?” the two seemed to have an endless amount of inside jokes as they both had a fit of laughter at what must have been a funny comment about their boss. Needless to say, Chase did not understand it, but he smiled nonetheless.

"No, I’m not,” Chase replied with a gentle hum. “Who’s Lady Wicker?”

“None of your business. Look, buddy, if you’re looking for a crowd to make some friends, it ain’t us, alright?” one of the two men replied, impatiently, before turning away from Chase with a shake of his head, and his partner followed. Perhaps it was out of frustration, or his vindictive nature in response to the rude attitude that he was shown, but without thinking twice, the young man in a large blue coat swiftly reached a hand into each of the two men’s back pockets and nicked whatever small items they had stored in there. It was easy enough and in less than a second Chase’s own hands were safe and sound in his own pockets with the newly retrieved items.

They deserved it for talking down to him the way they did, but that thought only lasted a brief moment as his feelings of pride were replaced with guilt and disgust - even more so when he realised that one of the two items was a small key.

Fiddling with it in its secret location underneath the fabric of his jacket, Chase sighed and then made up his mind to put it back, but just at that moment, the man whom it belonged to turned around to face him instead.

“You still here?”

“I’m sorry…” he uttered, genuinely regretting what he had just done, but how could he explain any further without angering them?

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry? As in, what did you say?” Immediately twisting the situation as he saw the confusion on the man’s face, he found himself unable to admit to the deed, and he then shook his head. “Never mind. Look, what if I told you that my friends and I would like to help you deal with this Lady Wicker?” he gestured over his shoulder toward Mika - even if they didn’t trust him, surely they must have seen the spectacle that the dog made just moments earlier. Sure enough, he had their attention now. “This place has become hideous… in all sense of the word, its walls are stained with the filth and pollution and its workers’ spirits are crushed by the corruption and abuse of those in power. Sounds to me like Lady Wicker could fit into one of those two categories, and I think we can easily agree on which one. So…” as all of his confidence seemed to return, a sly smile made its way onto Chase’s face and he leaned forward on the bar, his gaze meeting both of theirs as his attention shifted between the two who had fallen silent with intrigue.

“Tell me about Lady Wicker.”

---

Chase: #eacce2
Angry worker Tom: #78b3ae
Angry worker Doyle: #b3a078

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #8}

---

“Interesting company you’ve found yourself in,” Lorenzo chuckled, going through the motions of turning coffee beans into suitable grounds as he set a kettle of water to boil. “But, what have you been doing with yourself these past months? After we all went our separate ways, I always wondered what you were up to.” His eyes went sullen for a moment, perhaps recalling the same circumstances as Bassanio as they both considered a tumultuous past. Lorenzo knew—the chef could see it in his expression—that he was the more fortunate one of the two gentlemen.

“It’s been a rough few months since I recovered,” Mister Rosencrantz said quietly, eyes more focused on the finely ground beans as he recalled the portly gent’s expertise in crafting the finest coffees. Of course, the beans themselves weren’t as high quality as those he was used to working with, their soft scent proof of that, but he had little doubt it would be a good beverage all the same. “I’ve mostly been roaming the South Blue, cooking for people to keep an income and avoid being traced,” he stated.

“I put some savings I still had into a working cart and have been roaming ever since, then I came to Dauntaun after a while and, mere days afterwards, I stand here now,” the blond chef explained, a little more jovially than was perhaps typical of his mood. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of the others… you’re the first familiar face I’ve come across since then, and for that I’m glad.” Despite the soft smile on his face, matched by Lorenzo as he filtered hot water through the grounds into the two mugs, there was a moment of sorrow shared between the two men.

“Well, I haven’t seen much of anyone else, either,” Lorenzo addressed as he finished up and set a mug of steaming coffee before his friend. The reflection of chalky blue eyes in the hot black beverage mirrored a darkness that lingered in the back of the chef’s mind, though it lacked intent. “I do exchange letters with Stephano, though! The lad managed to get himself in as an assistant chef in the Navy.” That comment raised Bass’ eyes up to meet those of the barkeep, prompting a smile.

^{“Really? That’s incredible,” the chef replied:
“Stephano always fancied himself as a Marine…”}

“That he did! His work ethic will carry him far, I’m sure!” For a moment, the two men exchanged little more than silence as they took sips of their coffees. An exquisite blend for something on the cheaper, more commonly affordable end, though Bassanio expected Lorenzo had picked out the best beans from the lot for special guests and occasions. “You know,” he continued, quietly and solemnly, “if you start to stir the pot too much it’ll draw their attention. I don’t think they’re the type to let it go…”

“…I know,” Mister Rosencrantz replied. Something about his response was different, even for him. Unexpectedly bristling with conviction he didn’t know he still possessed. For a moment, he side-eyed the likes of Chase and the two young men across the bar, and then gently turned his head the other way to glimpse the wagging tail of Mika as she conversed with the old man. “I was happy to try and find a way, but they weren’t, and now look at me—look at us; caught sifting through the dying embers of something we poured our hearts and souls into as we were scattered on the winds…”

^{“Hey, don’t be like that…”}

^{“Hmm… Lorenzo?” Bassanio grinned:
“I’m going to do more than stir the pot…”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:—}
<sub>As Bassanio and Lorenzo talk about the past over coffee, the former decides to stake his lot.

Notes:— ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika Gooddog | #acd1fc
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Mousie Ericsson [NPC] | #efff9b
Lorenzo [NPC] | #6eb974
Old Frosty [NPC] | #a7137f

[Kami-Gaz]

“Advice, Eh?” The older man spoke before lifting his whiskey on the ricks to his lips and taking a sip, allowing the distilled liquor to sit on his lips and tongue for a moment before getting swallowed. With a soft shake to his head and a chuckle he shifted his attention to the dog-eared winged girl that had sat on the stool next to his. She was just a kid after all.

“Yeah! Old Rusty was the bestest, he helped me all the time before the bad people came and put my family to sleep.” Her voice went flat with that, eyes that usually had a sparkle lost all luster as a deep sadness permeated her form. The ears fell flat against her fluffy white hair and the tail that wagged a mile a minute fell limp and still behind her. A tear even formed in the corner of one of her eyes as she rested her bare arms on the bar, then recoiled from the innate stickiness. “I never got to see him after that.” She said softly before looking to the man and smiling again.

With his heart strings tugged Old Man Rusty knocked back the rest of his drink and pushed the glass away before tapping the bar twice to get another one. “Young miss, that sounds horrible. I am sure your friend is all fine and dandy now.” This caused the girl with a halo to nod, bringing back a smile and that sparkle to her eye.

“I think so too Mr Rusty.” She replied after a small sniffle, one of her arms wiping the tear away as her tail slowly swayed behind her. “You are a good person.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” The old timer replied, offering a soft chuckle as he stroked his grey beard. “Well, I think I just care too much.” He said as he noticed the angel at the bar offer a soft pout to his reply.

“I thought so! Mister! Can you help me? I am looking for friends because we want to clean the air!” Mika spoke with enthusiasm, not tempering her volume or tone a single bit. “But we need people to stop the factories making more bad air… otherwise it will all come back not long after I clean it.” She explained before leaning closer and actually stage whispering so loud, she may as well not have leaned in. “I think we need to break them so bad they can never be used again!” The young seraph explained.

“That’s a tall order little lady.” Rusty spoke, he had noticed how her wings and halo had stopped burning apart from short splutters of a brilliant white flame when whisps of cigar smoke got too close. The air in this bar was pure, clean… the best he had tasted in years of living. “But I think I can bend a few arms, maybe get more friends involved. Iffin, that will help your cause.”

---

Post: 9

Mika: acd1fc

Mousie: efff9b

Leenie: ffd1f6
Old Man Rusty: ce5a3d

[Bobbie]

With his confidence restored, Chase won his listeners over as they glanced at each other before the words started to flow from their mouths.

“Lady Wicker claims to be a relative to the Melon family, but nobody has ever seen any proof of this.”

“That’s not to say that nobody has tried to find it - we’ve asked many questions and tried to do our digging, but anybody who did was punished with an iron wrath, Wicker-style. We’re all overworked and underpaid, and many of us fear losing our jobs before we reach our forties!”

“That is, if she doesn’t take our health first.”

The pair seemed experienced at finishing each other’s sentences, and they both had a lot to say about their employer. As if trained by certain conversation cues, they both paused and each let out a long sigh, their breath scrambling out of their throats with anything but grace. The terrible fumes inhaled over the years must have done a number on their windpipes and lungs.

As Chase watched them and listened, it became increasingly clear how much harm these two people had endured. Their bodies and minds were victims of their environment, pollution coming in all forms: fumes and this horrid Lady Wicker. The young artist considered offering some help to mend the broken components of their bodies, having enough experience with replacing organs with mechanical parts as well as the medical knowledge of human anatomy to improve one’s quality of life… yet he had learnt that it was not always appreciated, no matter how much kindness was intended with his gesture.

“There are a lot of safety hazards at the factory, a couple of people have already been injured, or worse. We’ve all warned her about them, our representative put together a list of all the safety protocols that were being breached, so she had him… silenced.”

It was at this point that Chase was handed a mug of ale to be included, as the two workers - brothers, he assumed - displayed a sad solemnity wash over them.

“This list… does anybody still have it?”

“No, Mike took it with him, but one quick tour around the factory and it won’t be hard to create another one.” The spite that came from the man’s mouth was followed by a chuckle and then a swig of his drink, his company doing the same. Chase looked down into the murky fluid, his frown growing slightly as he couldn’t bring himself to take a sip of a beverage he considered so far below his standards. He looked up to meet their distant gazes.

“My friends and I are on a mission to better the world.” Having listened to enough for now, Chase decided that this was the right time to put his own goal forward. Their goal. Once he gauged their reactions and established that he had their attention, he continued.

“We’re going to start by cleaning up the air of Dauntaun. Thing is, we can’t do that with people like Lady Wicker and other factory-owners spewing all that toxic garbage into the air that we breathe… so we need help from people like you to bring an end to all the pollution that comes from these businesses.”

Following his words, the three of them were silent. Watching the pair anxiously, Chase worried that he may have said the wrong thing, judging by their hesitation.

“If you’re implying that we help you sabotage the factory we work at, that would mean we’d be left without a job. Whether you succeed or not - we’d be putting everything on the line for a bad outcome.”

“A better outcome!” Chase quickly leapt into the conversation before anything further could be said for this man to demoralise his partner. “You might not have this job anymore, but you could have a better, more meaningful one without the strain currently put on your lungs. Imagine doing what you do best, whether it’s working machines, transporting cargo, or something more creative, you would be doing it for a grateful farmer. In service to an injured veteran, or a lonely widow. Perhaps a young artist trying to kickstart their own career, and you two can be the ones to make that possible…” Pausing once more, he watched the faces of the two patrons at the bar. For a moment, he couldn’t tell if he had lost them, as they were clearly not entirely convinced yet but he could see that they were on the fence… Chase took a deep breath and raised his mug, ready to make a noble sacrifice for the good of their cause.

“It will only be possible because you won’t be working for Lady Wicker anymore.” Indeed, all they needed was one little push, as his mug was soon met by two more in a loud clanking cheer, and the three of them gulped down their drinks.

It was absolutely disgusting.

---

Chase: #eacce2
Angry worker Tom: #78b3ae
Angry worker Doyle: #b3a078

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #9}

---

“Taking this as a challenge, are you?” Lorenzo smirked awkwardly, amused but also a tad concerned for his friend. “Well, I suppose there’s little I can do to persuade you otherwise,” he continued, resigning his concerns to fate as he allowed a little more confidence to express itself within those eyes of his. For a moment, his eyes shifted sideways as the clinking of cups signified a toast of sorts. “Seems your friends have mustered up something already for the cause,” he grinned.

“Hm… It seems so,” Bassanio smiled in reply, having mostly drained his mug of coffee out of a mix of remorse, anxiety and personal frustration. He didn’t go out of his way to intervene with Mika or Chase’s endeavours—they seemed to be doing quite well without any assistance—but did find himself chewing on his thoughts as potential problems intruded. For a moment he simply stared into what remained of his beverage, before the click of Lorenzo’s fingers raised his gaze.

^{“Do you mind if I make a suggestion…?”}

^{“Mm,” the blond chef hummed:
“Of course, Lorenzo. Go ahead…”}

“There’s a group stationed near the ‘greener’,” he added with air quotes for emphasis on just how dull and drab much of Dauntaun was, “side of the island. It’s a local branch of… I suppose they’re philanthropists? When big fires and the like break out, or in the wake of piratical raids, they come out and offer support and aid to the people affected.” He paused for a moment, thumb and forefinger pinching his chin in thought as he tried to recall the name. “They’re funded by a wealthy off-island family in the region, if memory serves. I’ve only seen them in action once, the rest is just what I’ve picked up while I’ve been here,” Lorenzo explained.

Well, it might be worth a look… Mister Rosencrantz did not put much faith in so-called philanthropy. At least as far as he had experienced, those sorts tended to be the type to line their pockets in exchange for services, rather than to openly push for fair and charitable work. Others were small-time charity endeavours, like raising money for orphanages and medical sob stories that made no sense when one were to pry. Philanthropy wasn’t something you proclaimed to do—it was something you did.

^{“Whitaker!” Lorenzo recalled:
“That’s the name…”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:—}
<sub>As the others seem to find success, Lorenzo suggests a possible course of action to Bassanio, who seems a bit sceptical.

Notes:— ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika Gooddog | #acd1fc
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Mousie Ericsson [NPC] | #efff9b
Lorenzo [NPC] | #6eb974
Old Frosty [NPC] | #a7137f

[Kami-Gaz]

Hearing how old Rusty agreed to bend a few arms and maybe get some friends involved the tail of dog angel hybrid girl started to wag at an incredible speed as a great big smile appeared on her face. It was the involuntary reaction of a dog that was happy to let the tail loose and wag from side to side and it was always going to give away her emotions. “REALLY?! Thank you, Rusty!” She spoke and bounced on the spot as her tail moved in such a way that it struck an old bar stool and caused it to shatter into splinters due to the sheer force.

Then in that instant she stopped and her eyes widened with a look of guilt, she looked around and tried to see if Mr Lorrererenzozo noticed. Like a guilty dog she looked back to Rusty and gave him a sheepish smile, ears flat and tail softly swaying. “Oops.”

The old man laughed as he leaned forward and pat her head, ruffling the hair between her ears and under the floating halo. “Don’t you worry about that. Just let me talk to my friends and get the word out that you’re looking for help.” He spoke before withdrawing his hand and standing up. “Tell you what, get your friends to pop in with a plan and I can get that to some people that owe me favours.”

---

“Wait a second! How do you know what Chase and Bassanio were saying?!” Young Leenie asked as she looked at the dog that sat beside her incredulously. Her head tilted to the side as she considered possibilities.

Mika tilted her head the other way and then let her ears flap on top of her head, one at a time. “I hear really well!” She spoke in a chipper voice to quell her new friend’s questions. “I heard what they all said, and I have a really really good memory!” The dog added before offering a solid nod as if that was explanation enough… there were far weirder things going on with the dog and being able to hear multiple conversations in the same room was far from the strangest of those things.

“Okay… okay. So, after the pub and getting friends like Rusty and the young factory workers then what?” Leenie asked as she settled back into a comfortable position and watched her animal companion with great interest.

“Well!” Mika announced as she stood on all four legs and did some tippy taps with her paws to show walking. “We went back to see Mister Mousie to tell him of the good news!”

---

Post: 10

Mika: acd1fc

Mousie: efff9b

Leenie: ffd1f6
Old Man Rusty: ce5a3d

Note: Doing a fun scene shift

[Bobbie]

As all three participants in the group-cheer emptied the contents of their mugs into their mouths, only one of the trio looked like he was about to throw up. Chase was not an experienced drinker, and even if he had been, it would certainly be something of higher quality than this. At least, that’s what he always thought. This liquid tasted vile.

“So what do you say?” He asked, hoping to mask his reaction to the drink behind more conversation. “Are you both in? Think you could round up a few of your buddies to join us too?”

The two men turned to each other, just as Chase had hoped, as it gave him time to raise one hand to his mouth, his teeth pressed together in worry that if his jaw were to open again, the most recent addition to his stomach’s contents would resurface. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his hand again and put his cup down down before the two workers turned to him, each of them nodding.

“Count us in… I’m sure we can get more people ready to get involved if you can promise it won’t fall back on us. We have families.”

Chase doubted the final statement. Rather, the possibility of it being true wasn’t really the most questionable matter here, but how these two lads would place their families as a priority, while they were here at a bar instead being with said families that they now so nobly put first before the cause. Keeping his opinions to himself, Chase smiled, but couldn’t make any false promises. “I can’t promise you anything other than a higher chance of success at achieving a brighter future with your help…”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps they had simply had enough chitter-chatter, but one of the pair waved his hand dismissively. “That’s good enough for me!” he exclaimed, before he started tapping the bar to get Lorenzo’s attention. “Barkeep! Another round, please, for us and our new friend here!” As he put his arm around Chase’s shoulders, his stomach dropped - he did not want another round of whatever it was he just drank.

---

“Let me make this clear, I don’t mean any offence to any of you lot who enjoy the revolting taste of-”

“We get it, you didn’t like the drink… what I’m more interested in is those items that you snatched from the bartender and the other two, Tom and Doyle. How could you expect them to have your backs when you just stole from them?” Frosty laughed, shaking his head, "I presume it's what landed you in here... what about your friend, did he get dragged down with you?"

Throughout the telling of their story, Chase had risen to his feet, hugging his jacket quite close to his body. His limbs made of metal, it was quite difficult to keep them warm underneath his jacket sleeves and the points of attachment at each stump began to ache terribly. He didn’t shiver, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable with the temperature in the freezer. Now he glared at Frosty, trying to determine whether this was genuine curiosity or a jab at him. Thankfully, the man cleared that up without needed any further prompting.

“Come on, it’s not like any of us are going to rat you out, I’m just curious. What did you take from them?”

Chase’s hands buried themselves in the pockets of his jackets that were now empty once more. Of course, before being thrown into this freezer, they made sure to empty his pockets.

“A bottle-opener, I think it was something like a Leatherman, off the bartender,” pausing, he glanced at Bassanio and offered a quick apology, then continued, “some keychain with a brand logo, I don’t remember what it was, and a small key…”

“Did you ever find out what the key was for?”

“No. I didn’t. Why does that even matter now?” Chase’s reply was impatient, growing more frustrated by their questions as well as the cold. “Can we continue with our story? After we made some allies, we wanted to bring this news to Mousie so that we could plan the way forward…”

---

Chase: #eacce2
Tom: #78b3ae
Doyle: #b3a078
Frosty: #a7137f

[Vio]

^{Bassanio #10}

---

Bassanio’s eyes opened again, drawing him from recalling recent events as Chase regaled the tale of how the two of them had ended up on the proverbial warpath. The frigid chamber in which he was locked only seemed to be getting colder by the minute, but still the chef was doing what he could to remain in motion at all times—not so strenuous as to risk breaking a sweat but enough to keep his core nice and warm. The others seemed to have stopped questioning his behaviour at this point, which had shifted from a light boxing routing to a steady jog around the perimeter.

His jog stopped.

“It’s not me you should be apologising to,” the blond voiced, meeting the kleptomaniac’s eyes for a moment before resuming his routine. “And yes, we regrouped and headed back to rendezvous with Mister Ericsson, to start discussing the next stage of the plan. Considering we weren’t actually gone that long, he’d been busy in that short span of time—the man’s far more resourceful that I’d initially given him credit for…”

^{—— BACK AT MOUSIE’S WAREHOUSE ——}

“I’m not putting any faith in a family of so-called philanthropists I’ve never heard about,” Mister Rosencrantz had voiced as the curious trio of Miss Gooddog, Mister Guillard, and himself entered their base of operations. “Besides, even if they do have good intentions, I severely doubt they’d want to take part in something so ‘revolutionary’ as th– …?” His thoughts were cut short as they stepped inside, their path somewhat blocked by what appeared to be a slalom of barrels and crates that had not been present just a few hours ago.

“Ah! Back so soon, friends?” The strange showman’s voice was somehow as irritating as it was welcoming, if only because of his apparent attitude and pride being coupled with what seemed to be high functionality. “Sorry for the mess!” Bass raised an arm and a questioning index, but sighed and allowed his arm to fall back to his side as he made his way between the various containers. Some were completely empty, lids open enough to allow him to peek inside with partial curiosity. Looking inside suggested them to be quite shallow—none were particularly large kegs—but comparing interior depth to external size most definitely revealed a disparity.

“Well,” the chef spoke up, “it seems we’ve had some degree of success so far. Where did all these barrels come from? I find it hard to believe you’ve procured this much in such a short time.” His eyes observed a few large crates in the corner, which seemed to be filled with the threatening black grains of gunpowder…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{Post Synposis:—}
<sub>A confused Bassanio processes the hastened work of Mousie as he and Chase continue to tell their story!

Notes:— ——</sub>

---

Rosencrantz Bassanio | #add8e6
Mika Gooddog | #acd1fc
Chase Guillard | #eacce2
Mousie Ericsson [NPC] | #efff9b
Lorenzo [NPC] | #6eb974
Old Frosty [NPC] | #a7137f