Nobody

"Uh... you... too?  Ren, wasn't it?"  Still baffled by the compliment, Nobody was personally ill-equipped to deal with the knights' genuine sincerity and found himself disarmed by it.  No one bothered with Nobody.  No helped Nobody.  Few ever deigned to acknowledge his existence, let alone leave room for friendship.  He hadn't bothered to even remember his own name, so accustomed had he become to fading into the background.  Yet here was a stranger willing to lend him a hand, arm him and check to make sure that he was actually alright.  Even Celeste didn't manage that much, and she was the closest thing he had to a passing friendship.

"It was nice, uh... not getting stepped on by you guys?"  Squinting heavily, words vomiting awkwardly from his mouth.  Reaching his arms up to stretch, he somehow felt less small after this unusual escapade.  Like he'd finally made a mark in the world, deliberately, for a change.

Two pounding fists crashed into the drift on either side of them.  The ground turned to powder and infiltrated every joint and crevasse as it washed over them. Nobody skidded past the giant ice golem's feet while twirling in circles on this back, the waterproof lining in his coat apparently doubling as an excellent crazy carpet.  He just waved casually at it as he sailed past.  The thing roared so loudly in outrage that a separate nearby mountain peak collapsed.  Avalanche causing an avalanche?  Lewd.

Sensing that this probably wasn't the best viable sleeping spot, Nobody searched for alternative prospects and found one nestled at the back of the algid monstrosity's neck.

"Uggggh," he groaned, rolling his eyes at the white, absent sky, then started climbing.  About halfway up, he nearly lost his grip and had to plunge his dagger in deep to keep from slipping.  The mob didn't like that one bit.

***

No one left with Nobody.  'Perfect!' he thought, eager to just slink away and go back to devotedly doing nothing on his terms, likely in a hammock strung up in some unobtrusive corner of the universe.  That was all he really ever wanted.  People got too worked up about stuff and things that really didn't matter, at least so far as he considered.  But consideration had never really been all that great a strong suit for him.  Nobody was more about living in the moment, usually because someone else forced him to or fate did.  No matter how hard he tried to keep out of the universe's way, it always found the means to drag him back in.  And so it did again.

Turning to leave, the sandy ridge collapsed beneath his feet precisely in the spot where he'd tried making snow angels a moment earlier.  A sinkhole open and became a spillway that tossed precisely where he least wanted to be, yet was also needed.

***

"Ugh... I didn't sign up for this."  Nobody looked like he was just about ready to wretch.  Pulling out a stick of half-eaten jerky, he busied himself making pathetic snow angels in the sand, failing miserably in the attempt.  Thinking he might bury himself instead and get left behind, he came bursting back out of his pocket a few moments later when holding his breath became too much of a thing.  "Is he dead yet," he asked Quip, who seemed as much terrified as enraptured by whatever she was watching on the far side of the ridge. 

"I honestly don't know why Celeste likes that guy.  He's way too bossy, throws his weight around like he's all that and... oh."  The penny dropped, audibly.  "Yeah, okay.  I see it now."  The Blood Raven's furious temper was well known, especially to her crew and those unfortunate enough to be declared her enemy.

***

Vanity Tag: @Celeste

Makes a stealth roll to hide | ID 214002 LD 2+3=5 (Failed)

"Is this some sort of punishment from Celeste, because I swear: that comment about her backside was taken completely out of context." Excuses and denials had been falling from his lips since spoopy-dude had woken him from his third most-favourite dream.  It was the one with the flying whales and rain made of money collected by his infinite harem of buxom, scantily clad waifus.  Nobody has simple motivations and ambitions.  Actually, he had neither of those, but if he had it seemed likely that they would lead him in that direction.  

"Wait... am I being Shanghai-ed?!"  Freyd just smiled.

"Basically: yes," came the reply.  "I need some competent fighters.  Celeste said I could use you.  Something about you having it coming and the alternative being that she dump all of your stuff overboard, swabs the deck with your face, and then charges you back pay for all the shit you've stolen."  The captain had warned him about how this was going to go and armed him with a few potent jibes and threats to keep her lazy shipmate from squirming out of the job.

"Of course she did."  Nobody groaned.

***

Nobody accepts and equips the items offered by Freyd and consumed 1 portion from Gungnir Shard.

Nobody | HP: 420/420 | EN: 60/60 | DMG: 20 | MIT: 20 | EVA: 2 | ACC: 6 | BLD: 24 | PARA | REC: 2

Leaping over the side, Nobody missed the chain and would have fallen all the way to the city below, had some random bit of debris not slammed into him and sent him flying laterally at just the right angle.  Inept as he was, the man's luck was simply unparalleled.  Fortune even smiled enough to have him land on a pile of discarded uniforms left out on the open deck for the next trash run to pick-up.  Ifrit must have been in dock when all this chaos began, and no one had bothered to clear them out yet.  Another lucky break.

Rising from the pile, someone's frilly underpants clinging to each horn of his bicorn, Nobody charged the nearest, most stunned and disoriented guards still left on the deck.  Both of them were bruised and battered, most likely from an unfortunate run-in with the captain or one of the other titan-level heroes running around the place.  Knowing he was just some Nobody didn't matter.  He had Something Pointy and an urgent hankering to avenge his Binky, and that would be enough.

"Get them ready to board. We take as many of these damn ships and turncoat them. Then, off with the king's head!"

Wait.  What?  Wasn't that blue dude down below the King?  The one who's had his face blown off by that Death Star laser blast.  Players seemed to be rallying all around him, dragging the NPC back to his feet and applying some serious defibrillation in the process.  Dangling from the side of his own ship, finally ceasing his pointless flailing, Nobody just waved at them as the Black Raven went by.

Rough tugs pulled him back to the deck.  Several barely recognizable crew members having decided that he was more useful as an engineer on the ship, rather than dangling externally, albeit barely.

Grumbling as he went, Nobody slid Something Pointy through a belt loop and started scouring the deck for anything that might serve his purpose.  A few stray bits of cloth.  Something in a bottle labeled 'XXX' that probably wasn't.  Was the next thing supposed to be grease?  Didn't matter.  Wandering back down to the engine compartment, he pulled loose the clamps on the thing he considered to be equivalent to the central boiler, swung open the door marked 'Never, EVER, open while in flight' and shoved everything he'd gathered inside before slamming and sealing the door shut again.

Moments later, the Black Raven hit warp 1, kinda.  And only for about 2.3 seconds before lurching back to its regular cruising speed, launching every unsecured thing on board forward with a sudden momentum differential.  This included the crew.  Fortunately, there was now a nice, shiny battleship waiting right in front of them, its cargo doors open and ready to receive them from their unexpected departure.

Worst.  Nap.  EVER.

IT was so thoughtful of whoever was piloting this rickety, rockety, tin-can ship-of-a-thing to sway back and forth the way they did.  The...erm... 'gentle' motion must have been meant to help him fall asleep, right?  Or so Nobody had assumed, until he swung and burned his ass on the super-heated... was it a boiler?  Suddenly, knobs were popping and lights were flashing all around him.  And, for goodness' sake, all the noise, noise, NOISE!

Grumbling in growing annoyance, he'd tossed and turned for a whole five minutes, but couldn't find a comfortable spot with the ever-increasing cacophony all around him.  And who the hell was that person who kept calling for more juice!?  He was no miracle worker.  If they needed more power, they could go get their own damned energy drinks.  No part of him had signed up to tend bar, though it would make a fine addition to this engine room, provided it was entirely self-serve.

"Uhhhhhhh...knock it off already!"

Reaching over, he grabbed his confiscated bicorn and pressed it over his head to drown out the world.  When that didn't work, he took his Binky, the massive purple sloth stuffy with the one missing eye and threadbare everything - his true sole treasure - and went to raise it over his head.  And then the world canted sideways and turned red.  Every object in the room suddenly floated into the air, hovering momentarily as gravity lost all purchase.  Something viciously hard and bright shot through the compartment passing from one end to the other, vaporizing most of the bulkheads, the unfinished platter of mangos he'd scrounged up for his lunch, and all of Binky from his belly button up.

Nobody froze, staring as the tattered remains of his only care in the world evaporate in his hands and all the sparkly stuffing spilled out.  And then Binky was gone.

Rage boiled over at a pressure that made the adjacent engine blush with inadequacy.  Had they no decency?!  In what cruel universe was it acceptable to crush a man-child's sole remaining specks of human comfort and joy?  Falling stylishly out of his hammock, Nobody grabbed Something Pointy in one hand, and the deflated remains of his hopes and dreams in the other.  Kicking open the door, he came soaring out from below decks and promptly launched himself overboard with a crazed, sleep-deprived look in his eyes, completely unaware of what he was doing or where he was going.

"FUCKING BASTARDS!!!"

By fortune or fate, most of the enemy fleet were on the other side of the ship, so he wasn't vaporized instantly.  Instead, his cape snagged on the taffrail and left him dangling over the open sky, cursing at empty air while he ineffectively sought to deliver McStabbies to anything around.  Thankfully, that meant nothing.

***

Nobody | HP: 400/400 | EN: 58/58 | DMG: 8 | ACC: 2

Full Stats:

Nobody knew exactly what he was good for, and it sure as heck didn't include whatever the rest of these goons were up to.  How did he get roped into this mess?  AGAIN?!  All he'd wanted was a quiet place to rest while Armageddon raged across Ladonia, and Aincrad, and the whole damned universe, for all he cared.  Staring up at the crazed, red-haired woman as she sailed skyward - more skyward, as they were on an airship - he winked and gave her a solid two-fingered salute accentuated by a borrowed bicorn hat, matching flipped-up eye patches and a wide assortment of colourful parasols.  The latter were promptly dumped into the nearest open barrel, as he no longer believed anyone on board had any semblance of a survival instincts.

Something growled.  Looking down, he realized it was him.  It made sense.  They'd finished the faux-beer and rum ages ago.  At least the bottles looked real, though the contents tasted more like a weird mixture of root beer and pineapple juice left out in the sun for way too long.  He'd had worse.  A couple of sailors saluted him half-seriously as they ran in the opposite direction.  

"Oh, right, the uniform."  He'd found it back when this whole debacle began and simply forgotten to remove it.  Ladonian admirals' stripes did cut a pretty fine jib. 

"Where did my bathrobe go?  HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BATHROBE???"  The vomit-coloured rags had likely fallen overboard, or been deliberately thrown so because of their odour.

After an exhausting one-minute search, including breaks, Nobody gave up and decided that his best contribution would be found serving as a critical form of humanoid ballast, preferably nestled in a hammock and well away from the rest of the fighting.  Snuggling up with his favourite sloth stuffy as a pillow, he flipped down both eye patched and bellowed a yawn that was conveniently covered by cannon fire.  Something clanked and crunched under his extended left foot.  Damned inconvenient of the crew to have set this thing up in the engine room, but he was too lazy to move it.

"Bah!" He waved a hand dismissively before turning over onto his side.  "I'm sure it wasn't anything really important."

***

Nobody | HP: 400/400 | EN: 58/58 | DMG: 8 | ACC: 2

Full Stats:

It had actually required a fair bit of effort to wander through the pressing throngs of mutually angry mobs pounding their way through the castle in one direction or another.  Some wore red, other blue.  Blue tended to stab red, and then vice versa.  Messy.  Noisy.  Tiring.  He just wanted to sit down and catch his breath for a few minutes, and maybe have a drink or two, then a nap.  A nap would be nice.  Somewhere nice and quiet, preferably warm and void of homicidal maniacs asserting the dominance of a particular hue.

He didn't have a map, and had no clue what this place even was.  Watching the players he'd become entangled with only adding to the ambient chaos, Nobody had been swept up in whatever was supposed to be happening.  Somehow, he'd managed to fan the flames of revolution using a stained, mustard-coloured cloth that turned out to have been a pile of vomit and urine-soaked rags that clung together after having dried in a heap.  Pride and confusion swelled at the notion that he'd earned his own colour, paired with disgust at his particularly awful luck.

Finally alone, and away from the worst of the stabby-stabbies, he'd stumbled into a large chamber adorned by a low rise and series of high clerestory windows that shone light down deliberately on the most beautifully comfortable lounge chair he had ever seen.  Sure, it was unusually upright and lacked the reclining features one might expect of a barcalounger, but there was no one else here, meaning that it was all his.  Skootching himself into an appropriately draped lay, his left leg dangled over the matching chair arm, bobbing casually in the air to the tune of some distant, imagined fanfare.  Drool soon puddled and soaked on the lush fabric of the right arm.  Nobody would appreciate the echoes of his sonorous snores as they bounced upon the marble walls, reverberating back towards the central dais thanks to carefully designed acoustics.  It was comfy, after a fashion, and a fantastic place for that long-overdue break. 

At least, it was until Nobody shifted his left shoulder and toggled the hidden switch concealed in the armrest that currently served as his pillow.  A section of stone receded behind arched colonnades on the far wall, before swinging into the throne room and spilling forth a gaggle of misfits and revolutionaries.  Most were too busy trying not to accidentally stab each other in the process to even notice he was there.  Glancing over his shoulder at the noise, bleary eyes squinted over gold admiral's epaulettes which he had never earned, but merely borrowed without any intention of returning.  His muffled voice carried, thanks to the aforementioned acoustical marvel, as he shut his eyes and dismissed the new arrivals as one might a wayward dream.

"No thanks.  I didn't call for room service.  Come back in an hour or two."

***

Nobody | HP: 200/200 | EN: 38/38 | DMG: 8 | ACC: 2

Eyes bulging at whatever notion had possessed him to do such a recklessly rebellious action, Nobody wondered at how he could possibly follow up.  He had no experience with leadership, and actively avoided it, and responsibility of any kind, whenever and wherever he could.  The romantic Bohemian lifestyle of old suited him best, wrapped in artistic frivolity and lost to his whims without care.  Maybe that was what drove him to open the gates in the first place - swept up in the moment.  Yeah.  That made sense.

"Here," he said, to some nameless NPC wheelwright, or cobbler, or baker, handing them his improvised flag.  It really didn't matter.  They were the faceless downtrodden of the game, and he contented himself to be one of them.  "Go do something noble with it.  The colour suits you."  A lies of convenience.  The flag was hideous, and not especially visible from a distance.  He didn't care. 

The red-headed chick in the courtyard was still flipping out on people.  Lady Scissor-Hands had broken into the tower.  

'Hey,' he thought to himself, 'there might be some really comfy beds in there.'

Wandering into the castle proper, Nobody did up the buttons on his borrowed captain's outfit, now ripped and tattered in sufficiently Thénardiers style to satisfy his own sodden appearance.  The guards would think him one of their own, having suffered misfortune at the hands of the mob, while the mob would see someone who'd picked up a few mementos along the way.  He could just vanish into the background.

***

ID: 202023 LD: 2

Progress: 134/150

*Hack* *Sputter* *Cough*

"What the heck is wrong with you people?!"

Nobody gasped and pulled his collar free from the woman who may just have saved his life after endangering it in the first place.  Weary eyes surveyed their surroundings, seeing the mad monarch in red and the blonde proselytizer dangling on various bits of the giant idol of Razwell, both off their rockers in a way that could see them fly over a cuckoo's nest.  Madness hadn't just gripped the state of Ladonia, but also the players within it.  With rasp for voice, he cried out in anger and frustration, suddenly preferring to throw his lot in with the mob of mobs.

"Look at you!  You're all bickering over who's gonna get to call the shots, but you're acting as badly as the tyrant these people mean to take down.  Especially you!"  His fingers pointed accusingly through their digit-less gloves at the crimson empress above.  "We should be helping these people," he shouted hoarsely, "not arguing over who has the biggest..."  Wait.  Are they are women? Nobody stood stunned at the realization that the worst offenders in the lot all fell on the same side of that particular line.  The momentum of his would-be tirade was lost at the turning of stereotypical tables.

"Doesn't matter!  I'm done getting dragged around by the nose, kicked in the ass or otherwise tossed about by a bunch of would-be usurpers behaving as badly as the one they would claim to be trying to stop!" 

"Take your fate into your own hands," he told the nearby throng pressing against the lattice of metal straps that barred their entry to the grounds.  "I'm done being a prisoner to yet another brand of petty martinets."  Taking a torn, mustard-coloured sheet that was thrust towards him by a young boy being crushed against the gates, he was struck by the pain and desperation in the kids eyes.  Nobody knew what he was going to do.  Swaddling the cloth around a nearby pole, he ran to the ramparts above and waved his improvised flag back and forth in the air, rallying the rebels to their opening.  Pressing a foot against the unattended counterweight release, he pushed.  A clank.  Then a heavy thud.  Metal rattling against metal as the chain fell freely, drawing the gates up and open, allowing the rebellion to spread into the palace grounds.

"This is for the little people, tired of getting pushed around by all the giant fucking egos around here!"

***

Nobody defiantly refuses to roll.  

Nobody's eyes widened at the realization of their imminent collision with Ladonia's central tower, not to mention the complete lack of pre-martyrtdom in-flight snacks.  Inconceivable!

"Nuh-uh.  Not going out like this.  You kooks can keep arguing about which one of you makes the better Ahab, but Nobody's getting out of here!"

Rushing about the deck, the Captain Crunch wannabe handed out his assortment of gathered umbrellas, keeping the brightest, yellowest one for himself.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your impending demise. Local time is irrelevant and the temperature is about to exceed your personal safety thresholds.  Your safety and comfort are now severely endangered.  Please remain seated with your seat belt fastened, if you want to die.  Otherwise, get off your asses, grab an umbrella and get ready to show Mary Poppins how its done."

Lashing the harpoons he'd collected to the few remaining coils of rope scattered around the deck - those that hadn't already been tossed or tilted overboard - and tethered them to whatever he could find.  Maybe they could spear and slide to some other destination, or hitch a ride on another airship?  The one they were on seemed doomed, and he wasn't much interested in nobly going down with the ship.  The big-wigs arguing over who was in charge could have that particular perk, if it mattered so much to them, they could have it.

"Please check around your seats for any personal belongings you may have stolen and use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles will have shifted and try to crush your face.  Thanks for that, by the way.  If you require deplaning assistance, you are on your own, because the crew has either already fled or been ruthlessly killed."

Opening his daisy-patterned hat-on-a-stick, Nobody grabbed some nearby rigging and dangled on the edge, donning the general assumption of his sanity, waiting for an opportunity.

"On behalf of WTF Imperial Airlines and its departed crew, Nobody thanks you for participating in this bizarro trip and hopes you all survive!"

***

ID201884 | LD 12 | --> supplies

PROGRESS

Navigation: 113/100
Power: 114/100
Supplies: 85/100

"You reek."

"Oh, uh... thanks?"  Nobody took the insult as a compliment, somehow twisting it internally to mean that he had a super-winning personality.  "And so do you!" he offered, cheerfully waving in response as she departed hastily. 

'So many nice people had joined the crew,' he thought to himself.  The remaining crystals in this arms fell with a clatter and shattered, spearing his poor moose-covered feet with shrapnel.

"Awww... nuts."

Shrugging off the injuries, as he did everything else, Nobody resumed his search, interrupted by the distant rumble of thunder, or possibly space whales.  A friend had mentioned that they had those on this floor, and he was suddenly eager to meet one.

"Space whales... space whales... what do they have down here for..."

Sounds of crashing crates and sensitive goods echoes within the belly of the ship, matching the angry tones of the approaching storm.

"TA-DA!!!"

Reappearing on deck, the smelly nutjob had returned wearing a heavy woolen surcoat in marine style, matching bicorn hat and gloves with fingertips that looked like they'd been chewed off by rats.  The gold epaulets, trim and tassels somehow suited him.  Twin eyepatches adorned his face, both flipped up because they were utterly pointless and unnecessary, while his arms cradled a multi-coloured mixture and assortment of harpoons and umbrellas.  Judging by the goofy grin on his face, he looked pleased as punch and absolutely certain that he'd just hit the jackpot that would solve all of their problems.  Rooting into the collected junk, he fished out a set of tubular manacles with threaded pin and wingnuts - just about the worst thing ever, if you were actually trying to restrain a captive.  Slapping them over the pipe section, they fit snug and perfectly, almost certainly due to sheer, dumb luck.  The larger wingnut gave his miniature brethren a spin and the leak strained to a trickle before petering out completely.

"There!  That should help!  Maybe? Yes?  Here!  Have an umbrella.  It's gonna rain, eventually."

***

ID:201871 | Loot: 16

Navigation: 82/100
Power: 85/100
Supplies: 73/100

And, as cleverly as he thought he'd set things up, fate intervened along with a good dose of ego.  The imperious scissor-hands just bushed past him.  His ice missed its target and clattered to the deck, finding the underside of his foot, which promptly reached for the sky.  Gravity shifted by about thirty degrees under his feet as someone righted the ship and Nobody went sliding ass-first into the fish-in-a-barrel, which promptly tipped over to dump briny fish guts all over him.

"Blerch!"  

Leaning over, stuck between dry heaving and wondering how he was going to get the salt out of his eyes, Nobody fumbled in search of the mug he'd just dropped, hoping that it still held its contents and that they'd be better than his currently drenched condition.

A cloth?  Might be a cloth.  Now, it's gonna be a cloth.

Grabbing at the dangling fabric, Aincrad's least notorious vagabond wiped off his face only to find himself staring up at some fuming princess in white, wondering why she looked so upset.

"Ummm... here?"

Tossing her the final flounder from the bin, he dashed below decks in search of shelter and moisturizer, wondering how this morning could possibly have gone from quiet and comfy to catastrophic calamity in so little time.  Searching for new shelter, he went down to the cargo holds and started rummaging around in search of a cozy new bed spread, finding only pertinent goods for the crisis at hand, yet completely oblivious to their nature or functions.

"Oh!  Hey.  A stack of shiny new crystal thingies.  I wonder where these are supposed to go?  DOES ANYBODY NEED CRYSTAL THINGIES!?" 

Maybe, if he handed them off, people would let him go back to sleep.

***

ID201845 | LD19 | --> supplies

PROGRESS

Navigation: 59/100
Power: 47/100
Supplies: 63/100

Nobody knew nobody, which worked out just fine as none of them seemed to know each other either.  A few looked to have hooked up along the way and all were wreaking havoc on his improvised bedroom.  Hauling himself out of his sandwich of crates and splinters, he plucked few of his nose, and then Matsu's, before dismissing the giant purple stuffy sloth.  Tying up his battered bathrobe, for decency's sake, the scrawny man stood and wavered as he struggled to maintain his balance. 

Lips smacking.  His?  His.  Thirsty.  A glass summoned to hand, borrowed from the Wedding & Tackle tavern back on floor such and such.  He really didn't remember, but the crest on its surface was amusing.   Still half-full of something.  Storage in Elsewhere was useful that way.  But the ice was all gone and flavour would be off.  A quick peace sign to @Alkor@Liumand @Plini matched with thoroughly inappropriate winks aimed at @Lilikand @Krysta.  If they were here for a party, he was always willing, though it looked like things had begun without him.  Waiving his free hand at @Ojistruggling with the instructions at the helm, he twirled his digits while mouthing the words: 'You're holding it upside down!"

Some crazy Edward Scissor-Hands-looking lady in crimson suddenly came crashing down on the deck two feet in front of him, nearly severing the heads off his fuzzy moose slippers in the process, and declaring something about the ship belonging to some emperor.

"Didn't it already belong to an emperor?  Is this some sort of lend-lease deal?  Regardless, could you shave me some ice?  My drink's gone warm."

Without missing a beat, Nobody reached into the same barrel from which the other wild one had wound up with a flounder, wondering why all the crazy ladies were wearing red.  A few hunks of ice flew up in the air, waiting to be ginsu'd by Lady Wolverine and in perfect ballistic trajectory for his still-waiting glass.  

"Fish in a barrel.  It's what the locals call it.  Not enough open bodies of water, and the guards try to spear you if you fish in a fountain, so the designers came up with this instead."  He plucked a pickled olive from the same, spinning a rim shot the plunked delightfully into his beverage 'for the vitamins', while waiting for the ice to finish its fall.  "They also work as open bars, if you use them right."  A flash of eyebrows and gleaming white teeth for style remained undermined by his permanently messy coif.

As if all that wasn't enough, the ridiculous man pulled a random pinion from its housing on the mast by his side, causing the ship's massive sails to unfurl and the entire ship to lurch forward with gusto.

Not a bad entrance, for a Nobody.

***

ID:201814 | LD 16 [Navigation]

Navigation: 47/100
Power: 47/100
Supplies: 41/100

Life had been going pretty swell, lately.  Nobody’d managed to slink his way up to Ladonia without anyone giving him any serious grief – or at least no more than usual.  Plus, with so many self-important people wandering around the place, it was easy for him to just blend into the crowd.  Be forgotten.  Nobody minded Nobody, and that was just how he liked things.  The vagabond lifestyle had suited him well for years.  Minimum effort.  No expectations.  Make due with whatever you have.  The good life’s personal nutshell for those too devotedly lazy to do anything about it.

And so it was that he’d wandered his way into the capital’s aerial shipyards, taking a wrong turn at digi-Albuquerque and somehow ending up in a cordoned off quarter of the docks where no one would bother him and tons of stuff had been left unattended.  Finishing off a few, fading, half-eaten meals had filled his belly to a greater degree than it had been in weeks.  A rare moment of stuffed satisfaction given thanks by an assortment of belches, but also reminding him that he could really use a nap.  Yes, a nap would be nice.  He’d been walking for, like, fifteen minutes, after all.

Dragging his feet, clad in a pair of ratty brown slippers with what might have once been cloth antlers, nobody stopped Nobody as he dragged his sorry ass up some random gangplank.  A steaming cup of something picked up somewhere, clung firmly in hand.  Saluting a random parakeet, perched on the rigging as he slouched and shuffled aboard.  The man’s tattered brown bathrobe seemed a poor, yet apt, substitute for the uniform that might be worn by proper crew.  He wasn’t proper anything, and was completely fine with that.

Downing the last dregs of his second-hand drink, he reached into his tatters and summoned Matsu – a giant purple sloth-shaped stuffy that could probably take him in a fight just by falling on him.  It was his prized possession: the most comfortable thing he’d ever found in this world.  Nobody didn’t care how threadbare it was, or the fact that its left eye was missing, or about that stain he’d long ago convinced himself was just ketchup.  Nice and warm and cozy.  It was perfect.  And so was that spot behind the stack of conveniently placed crates left on the far side of the deck. No one would bother Nobody there.  Curling up on Matsu, his guts gurgling loudly in thanks, and possibly protest, he closed his eyes longing for the sweet bliss of not having to give a fuck about anything for awhile.

He was almost there when some big shiny screen with lots of words and claxxon-like alarms rudely roused him from the brink.  He did what anyone would do, slapping at it blindly while stuffing his head under the arms of his stuffy to muffle the noise.  He must have pressed the right button, because it stopped, and off he went to…

Lurch.  

Crash.  

Bang.

"You all are crazy!!!"

The crates that had sheltered now crushed him against the gunnels, smooshing him tightly beneath their weight.  Struggling to figure out what was happening, someone stepped on Nobody’s face in their rush to leap over the side, like it was somehow a better option than remaining on board.  Amidst the chaos, some random Nobody popped up from behind the wake of collateral damage unleashed by the players commandeering the ship, a severed case of bedhead marring his carefully crafted five o’clock shadow as he struggled to understand what was happening.

“Err… excuse me, but wasn’t the ship pointing that way, just a minute ago?”

***

ID:201786 | Loot: 4 [Navigation]
Progress:
Navigation: 28/100 (+4)
Power: 19/100
Supplies: 20/100

***

Nobody | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 4 | ACC: 2