Emjajoas
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Em chugs back a Nostrum, his focus on the Amoeboss. He looks the creature straight in the cold, unblinking eyes, his visage still twisted into the feral snarl. Control. Control. Control. He twitches slightly, gripping his shield tighter. Why was he so angry? So mad? What did he have to fear? Certainly not his own death. The Amoeboss, perhaps? The Regret was not currently a threat. The Amoeboss was large, but could be dealt with. The ship had armaments-- perhaps...? No. They couldn't work the cannons without the crew. For now, it seemed as though the Heroes were on their own. His focus thins to that of a knifepoint-- cold and sharp. His visage relaxes slightly, though he still frowns. You're not mad. "Punii," he whispers, remembering about the small Progg on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
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Em's frown breaks into a full-on snarl. "My choice is clear," he growls. He was in no mood to lolligag, especially if they were still at sea. Turning towards the Regret, he fires a malicious glare filled with bloodlust-- and fear. "Don't you know it's rude to play with your food, Regret? Let's get this sick joke over with."
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Em slings his bow over his shoulder angrily, being careful not to rattle Punii. He wraps a hand around Doppelgänger, accepting the sword. "Thank you," he nods through clenched teeth. "Appreciate the backup."
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Em grits his teeth, nearly cracking them. " A cornered rat's bite is the strongest. Who needs a way out? I came here to kill," he mutters, readying his bow-- before cursing under his breath. "That damn thing's made of water, isn't it? This godsdamn Aquabow..."
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Em throws himself into action, eyes wide, shoulders tense. He hastily squeezes into his jerkin before clicking his armour into place. He checks his bow, frowning. "Punii," he calls, falling to one knee and placing his arm towards the ground. "You need a ride? Climb aboard."
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Em raises his glass towards Boomingham. "Cheers to landfall," he nods, gulping down a swig of the alcohol. "Prepared..?" he repeats, thinking to himself for a moment. "I don't think I'm ready for what we're going to face," he answers carefully, lowering his voice. He frowns. "But I'm looking forward to it nonetheless. Are you... ready?"
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Em enters the room, removing his jerkin. He tosses it onto his cot. His armour was already piled beside his resting place; he had taken to not wearing the armour on the ship, lest he fall in the water and drown from its weight-- not that he could swim well without it, either. He rubs his eyes. It had been a long three weeks. The crew were friendly enough, but everywhere he turned, there they were. It tired him out. He needed some time to himself. He wouldn't get any-- not for a while, at least-- but it bothered him. He needed to think-- or rather, to stop thinking. "Nearly there," he sighs, rubbing his temples. His head was pounding. His nerves were getting the better of him. The ship made him uncomfortable, and their destination did nothing to help. He was anxious to land, anxious to fix his mistakes, anxious to kill every last oculoid that threatened the proggs. He was anxious to fight. The thought of the battle, the war, sent shivers down his spine and metamorphosed the butterflies in his stomach. "If you're offering, Boomingham, I could use a drink."
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"Three weeks..." Em mutters, turning paler. He rubs his face quickly. "Whether or not the Regret killed them, I fear there may still be a greater threat lurking in the water. Hell, perhaps that demon cloned them. We should remain cautious."
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"It is awful convenient, Punii," Em agrees with a nod. "Though most things tend to turn out that way. How did the three, er, ameobosses die?"
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"Have you sailed these waters before?" Em inquires. It seemed as though he was growing more accustomed to their method of transport, though his visage was still a little pale.
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Why'd I have to go and sell my Quality Cutlass? Would've been the perfect time to put it to good use. Nothing says "pirate" so much as a cutlass other than a cool hat and an eyepatch.
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Who needs to help the Bonapartes when we can yell great lines at the pirates such as "Hand over yer booty!" and "I'll leave ye hangin from the yardarm!"
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Pirates, perhaps? Everyone loves pirates.
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Current Sign-ups for Quest 109: Dreamscape: Alexander Vandangant, Level 23.33 Hunter (Wedge09) Francis Barkley, Level 1 Ranger (Captain Settle) Miderun, Level 1 Barbarian (CallMePie) Benji Carvenhall, Level 43.4 Beast Warrior (Flare) Bartholomew Docken, Level 44 Warden (Brickdoctor) Namyrra Uq, Level 45.8 Archmage (Quarryman) Mizuki Kimura, level 15.5 Assassin (Zakura)
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"I suppose it is," Em replies with a slight shrug. It sounded more like a question than an answer. "It's a lot less of a mouthful, at any rate."
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Em, looking uncomfortable (and a little green), swiftly denies alcohol. "I won't be drinking either," he manages, placing his elbows on the table resting his face on his palms. "I'm Em, by the way."
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Em shakes his head. "I am ready to depart," he states.
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Em nods in acknowledgement to Jeaux's trust, though he frowns slightly. "As far as our Party Leader goes, I think--" Em's frown deepens for a moment. He knew Boomingham was both a trustworthy man and party leader, but with the bad blood between him, Karie, and Masson, perhaps Boomingham wasn't the best choice. "I think Erdy should be our party leader."
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Current Sign-ups for Quest 109: Dreamscape: Alexander Vandangant, Level 23.33 Hunter (Wedge09) Francis Barkley, Level 1 Ranger (Captain Settle) Sign-ups Extended to August 11th
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Em glances between Jeaux and Masson. "He works with the Town Watch now, Jeaux," he informs. "He's going to help us take down the Regret. If you've bad blood, I'd prefer you leave it until after we kill the demon." Em sneaks a glance at Boomingham upon saying this, though only for a split second. He was worried the party would be torn apart before they even got a chance to hit Regret. "We're all nervous. We can only do what we can. But... that should be enough," Em sighs, hunkering down near Punii. He seemed to be reassuring himself as much as the little Progg.
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Em nods in greeting to Masson, but smiles at Punii--calming down significantly, though still tense. "Hello again, Punii," he greets. "How... are things?"
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Em grits his teeth, shoulders tense. "I am here," he states simply, constantly checking himself over-- Did he have all his equipment? Did he have enough consumables? Was he prepared? It seemed as though Em was nervous.
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Em takes note, checking his armour, his shield, and his bow. He rummages through his bag, organizing his consumables and spare items. He was tense. The Regret. It would soon come to an end. Fastening his belts tighter and adjusting his cape, Em was ready for what was to come.
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Em cocks his head, signing his name for the raffle. He hoped this year would be as rewarding as the last.
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Thank you, everyone, for your words of advice! I really appreciate the thought you guys put into your responses. I'll host 109 and go back to the drawing board afterwards with some experience under my belt and your advice in mind. Again, thanks for the feedback.
