#ic reponse

[frostahesmegabite]

This message is different. It doesn't belong to Sarkyst or Corvid, but it's from Mara!

She sends in a package and a pre-payment, a letter attatched to it.

In the box is a very advanced mechanical arm, busted up from what seemed a fight. The measurements could be taken from it, but it definetly wasn't salvageable save for a few parts.

The note attached is written neatly in the begining, and turns a little sloppy at the end.

"Sarkyst recommended me to you, and my old mechanic don't deal with me anymore. I'm willing to pay you however much it costs to rebuild an arm like this. I need a retractable knife at the wrist and a blaster in the palm that can be powered by magic in emergency situations. Just send me back the price and when you're done, I'll personally come to pick it up.

Thanks a bunch- MARA."

The bottom of the paper has a crude little drawing of Mega with a big grin from Mara and another drawing that was most definetly from Sarkyst of a middle finger.

Megahes takes the box and places an ear next to the top of it, listening for any telltale signs of ticking in case it was a bomb of some sort. It wouldn't be his first Mailbox Bomb after all! Content that this wasn't an obvious explosive, he takes to reading the letter and hums, nodding before he opens it all up and grimaces. Yep, that was definitely a fucked up mechanical arm and he proceeds to look it over, taking out whatever pieces fell away during delivery and to check the arm as a whole to see how intense it was. Provided this was simple mechanical work, he'd be able to make this work with no issue, but if it required advanced biotech to connect to nerves, that'd be a job he'd need to send to Naturasu. He takes up the box and finds a return address and begins to fashion up a letter. 'Mara, I've received the package with a mechanical arm and I'll begin forging the pieces that I can and start assembly. This will take some time since I need to mold and forge each individual piece to make for the measurements required. Once that stage is completed, due to it being the longest stage, I'll send you an update timeframe wise on when assembly itself will be completed so you can stop by the shop and try it on and out.' He'd sign the letter with the standard; 'Megahes Frostbite; Leader of the Frostbite Contingent' Also, another letter is attached with this, but its envelope has the name of Sarkyst on it. Inside is a single piece of paper but there appears to be a rather intricate and complex maze waiting to be completed with a small note attached. 'Thought you might appreciate this due to the drawing you included with the mechanical arm repair. Hope you like it. :)' If Sarkyst bothers to do this maze, he'll soon realize that Mega basically had him draw an enormous dick. [ Thanks for the RP Prompt @misterroseogsblog! xD ]

[bojackhorsemanobviously]

I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse about the whole Champ-selling-you-out thing, but technically he wasn’t a real licensed therapist to begin with. He was a “therapy horse”, which is an important legal distinction.

So. Basically he was sham therapist using a misleading term that made would make one assume he was an actual therapist.

That' doesn't really make me feel much better because he was still someone I trusted.. oh well lesson learn don't trust anyone.. except princess carolyn i can always trust princess carolyn

[spotofmummery]

*sneaks in your room and shop lifts a potion from your desk * :'D Thanks!

“Hey... hey! Be careful friend,” Amon warns with a stricken look. “That might be the batch I accidentally got the labels mixed up on! I wouldn’t use that if I were you!

“Is there... a particular potion you’re needing?”

[spotofmummery]

Written by @avwalya

Av was on the hunt for some of her bard friends to ask a favor of concerning a future performance when she spotted Amon as she entered the Caroline Canopy. She hadn’t realized she had been staring at him until he had stood up and greeted her. Blushing she stuttered at first upon responding,“ Oh oh um pardon mine stare I didn’t mean ta make ya worry…”

Flashing him a fanged grin she looked up him as she continued.“ …but ah where mine manners. Aye a good afternoon to ya too. I was just looking get some bards ta perform for a possible event mine friends in Shirogane might be putting on, so what say you, up for some travel an merrierment, tis been an age since we’ve done anything together.” She finished with a quizzical look of her own.

“Aye, it has been quite a while, hasn’t it? I hope life’s been treating you well, my friend?” Amon relaxed a bit, leaning against the wall casually. 

The Bard tilted his head in interest at the mention of a gig. He was always on the lookout for opportunities outside of the norm. While playing streetside and a few taverns had solidified a pretty steady stream of income on the side, Amon knew networking was just as important. 

“Looking for performing bards, you say. Tell me what you have in mind.” 

[ode-of-odr-archive]

"Physically, your scars are the sexiest thing about you. But what's really most attractive to me is the fact that you actually listen to your partner and give a damn about what they want, as well as what you want."

The mercenary looks at her with confusion, "My scars, really?" Raserei was almost certain she was crazy."I don't know how you could like them but I'll fucking take it. As for caring...isn't that what partners do?"

[ode-of-odr-archive]

yea i'd be pretty pissed, too. who knows when a fuckin rad storm is gonna hit? i mean shit you could be anywhere but there's almost always a settlement within walking distance yknow? now, well, fuck. guess you gotta ghoul. outside reflect the inside and all that

"Fuck off, I'm ugly as is, don't insult the ghouls."

[ode-of-odr-archive]

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

     Raserei has had the shit kicked out of him before, even still it didn’t make it easier nor less dangerous when he his head comes into contact with a hammer and is bleeding out of his gut.

     He wanted to look and answer the question but every time he tried to lift his head he would just slump it back down like it was full of bricks. When the large man tried to speak his words were slow and in a sense slurred. It hurt too much for him to focus on speaking. 

     “Sorry” was the only real word he could manage to get out.

[argentnoir]

A plain piece of computer paper is stuck to the door of Tseng's office. A petition of sorts, with a big bold, and messily, handwritten title-- 'LET'S BRING CASUAL FRIDAY TO THE OFFICE!!!' Under it a disorganized sprawl of signatures to support the notion.

Ah, democracy. Tseng pulls the paper off his door and squints at the various signatures. It appears as though more than one name shares the same handwriting style. So as not to crush any dreams, he refrains from scrunching the petition up there and then. He will remind the Turks of how much of a dictatorship they live under, when he tapes the form back onto his door later, with a shotgun hole blasted through the middle.