[ Jake, on the other hand, is completely new here.
One minute he’s got his gun pulled, staring down the man who killed his father while the fate of the world rests on his shoulders. The next? Bam, he’s here. He remembers nothing but frustrated vocalizations and Sherry yelling for him not to shoot in his left ear. He remembers nothing but a whirlwind of turbulent emotions — anger, mostly, but also disbelief and resignation and other conflicting feelings he doesn’t even want to put a name to — and right as he pulls the trigger, he’s gone. Just like that.
All that anger dissipated into confusion. What the fuck. His sudden arrival led to a pretty hectic first couple of weeks. Getting back was the only thing on his mind, but it became increasingly obvious that finding a way back wasn’t in the cards, wasn’t an option right now. There were others there, like him, who had been pulled from their worlds, and they were all working to find their way back.
So, when it became apparent that he couldn’t leave the same way he came, Jake dug his heels in and hatched a plan. Sure, flowers uprooted themselves and walked around, and people communicated through thought, but Verens wasn’t completely different from his world. He’s a mercenary and, by extension, a survivalist — he knows how to adapt, and due to the similarities, adapting was easy.
(Relatively speaking. Emotions affecting surroundings and being used as commerce or whatever? Weird. He’ll probably never get used to that.)
Which is why he found himself in the sewers. Money was a language Jake spoke well and was very necessary for survival. He’d taken up some odd jobs here or there, but it was like fate threw him a bone when he’d spotted the flyer for the Beastmaster Hunting Guild. Monsters in the sewage system? With his skillset, it was a match made in heaven.
… but he’s disappointed. They made it sound like urgent business but he’s yet to find one anywhere. He’s pretty sure he’s been up and down these tunnels a dozen times with no Razorant in sight — and then he hears a noise.
Moving towards it, gun drawn, he stops when he hears a woman speak.
One chance, huh? Well, alright, then.
He makes himself known. His gun’s still drawn and his grip is still tight as ever, but he lowers it, raises a hand in surrender. An olive branch. ]
Relax, lady. You might hurt someone with that.
[ He points to the knife at her hand. She definitely looks like she knows how to use it. ]
why not a weird combination of both? :3c (also hi mom!!)
One minute he’s got his gun pulled, staring down the man who killed his father while the fate of the world rests on his shoulders. The next? Bam, he’s here. He remembers nothing but frustrated vocalizations and Sherry yelling for him not to shoot in his left ear. He remembers nothing but a whirlwind of turbulent emotions — anger, mostly, but also disbelief and resignation and other conflicting feelings he doesn’t even want to put a name to — and right as he pulls the trigger, he’s gone. Just like that.
All that anger dissipated into confusion. What the fuck. His sudden arrival led to a pretty hectic first couple of weeks. Getting back was the only thing on his mind, but it became increasingly obvious that finding a way back wasn’t in the cards, wasn’t an option right now. There were others there, like him, who had been pulled from their worlds, and they were all working to find their way back.
So, when it became apparent that he couldn’t leave the same way he came, Jake dug his heels in and hatched a plan. Sure, flowers uprooted themselves and walked around, and people communicated through thought, but Verens wasn’t completely different from his world. He’s a mercenary and, by extension, a survivalist — he knows how to adapt, and due to the similarities, adapting was easy.
(Relatively speaking. Emotions affecting surroundings and being used as commerce or whatever? Weird. He’ll probably never get used to that.)
Which is why he found himself in the sewers. Money was a language Jake spoke well and was very necessary for survival. He’d taken up some odd jobs here or there, but it was like fate threw him a bone when he’d spotted the flyer for the Beastmaster Hunting Guild. Monsters in the sewage system? With his skillset, it was a match made in heaven.
… but he’s disappointed. They made it sound like urgent business but he’s yet to find one anywhere. He’s pretty sure he’s been up and down these tunnels a dozen times with no Razorant in sight — and then he hears a noise.
Moving towards it, gun drawn, he stops when he hears a woman speak.
One chance, huh? Well, alright, then.
He makes himself known. His gun’s still drawn and his grip is still tight as ever, but he lowers it, raises a hand in surrender. An olive branch. ]
Relax, lady. You might hurt someone with that.
[ He points to the knife at her hand. She definitely looks like she knows how to use it. ]