Authors Edit; Qazlin is at Brenn.

“So you want to hear a story? Eh?” The guy asks, the golden hammer beside him lighting up as the fire flickers and dances away to a soft and imaginary beat in the minds of few. This man could hear it however, the rhythm of life as it travelled through the world. To explain it would be difficult and like trying to divide by zero. The crowd around him waits with anticipation, some of them noticing the small patch that identifies him as a member of the revolutionaries. The mop of hair on his head flops around and he takes a small sip of the beer in front of him.

“Alrighty, I’ll tell you about Captain Renol. I served under him many times, and one thing that astounded me was the way he moved through crowds of people. Some say he would glide but I don’t think so.” The man of course, is Qazlin. A member of the Revolutionaries and someone who has been away for a little while. Sighing quietly, he remembers his late parents and runs a finger through the gouged tabletop. “I think he ran on the air itself.”

The patrons looked at each other with confusion, trying to understand what exactly Qazlin was saying to them. One of them, a cocky arse, asked him what exactly he was drinking and Qazlin merely gave him the childish grin, like a cat with cream. The past week had been spent doing recon for the revolutionaries and playing live in varying bars and events, which was no change fro, the many weeks beforehand but with no family ties mixed into it.

“It means he ran on the air you stupid shit.” Qazlin told him with a laugh, taking a swig of the beer this time and throwing it at the man. He hiccuped and stumbled up right. He’d gotten a little hooked on beer as of late and it wasn’t a good thing at all by his own standards. It tasted vile and he missed the sweet sweet taste of toffee.

“Hey, wait a sec. Are you Qazlin?” A redheaded man with big fish lips asks him, surprise on his face. Qazlin tenses up at this and raises a brow at him.

“Yes?” Qazlin asks him, narrowing his eyes and sliding the hammer back into it’s placement but ready to draw it out at a moments notice and throw him through the wall. Hopefully avoiding taking his head off his head if he can.

“You know that Cotarona guy is missing, right? Heard he went off to Anvard.”

Qazlin nodded slowly, sighing at the news of this. His main ally in the world and the revolutionary friend he’d been travelling with had vanished after the crew split. If only that fateful sea battle had gone differently. Orville would have never taken the bullet through his head. But at least he had the rest of the revolutionaries and the Goren family to look after him.

“Yep! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have places to me.” He grins, taking a bow at the men and women before him and making his way to the front door across the creaking floor and past the wooden tables scarred many times with swords and brawls. He pauses for a moment as a note takes his eye. ”Ooh, a cafe. I like the sound of this. I hope they have toffee.”

OOR: So yeah, this serves as a reintro post after a long hiatus in which I did things.