Rrgh- waitwait, hold on. This wooly lining's givin' me a bad itch...
[Who needs a tank? You've got a tank. Though some wonder where the 'berserker' line ends and 'Kanji' begins, he seemed to be doing alright after the several-hour chocobo ride to the forest to seek a treasure nestled within its core. But as he grasped his jacket and rolled his shoulders, he was having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction with the soft-lined armor granted to him by the guild.
Though he grunted confirmation that he'd fixed the issue- a lie, and he'd need to check the lining later to see if the wool had been treated properly prior to armor crafting- he still looked a tad surly as he shook the very large war hammer from his back. The way he swung it, it was like it weighed nothing at all.]
A'right, good enough. Got that map handy? This place looks huge...
[G- Get a Job (The Other Kind)!]
HrrrrrrRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!
[Never let a berserker clean your house. Never let a berserker clean your house. Because what happens is a man that's down on the floor, roaring at the dust and dirt as he pushes a rag along the hardwood. He raced down the hallways, powered by sheer testosterone... or boredom. This was just like cleaning the textile shop back home.
Ever stop in and see how damn clean the place is? You're welcome.
But the owners of this particular item shop are standing on their chairs, eyes side as saucers as they watch all of this happening. That's when you come in, and are greeted in a rather distracted tone, all while the sounds of some kind of wild beast are going on in the back. If you lean, you see glimpses of some form hunched on the floor racing along.]
[I- Random Encounter!]
[Welp, showtime. Maybe you were in a bit of a jam or accidentally wandered off alone to do a little training. Whatever the case, that's a behemoth, all horns and a lofty shade of purple and a hell of a lot of magic nobody wants to deal with.
But before it can strike back, something clocks it right over the head and sends it reeling. Running after the object was some guy clad in armors of the Berserker's Guild, who gathers up the fallen hammer and falls back into line. As the beast bellows its anger over being struck, he bares a toothy grin right back. Living here was kind of awesome, if a bit... dangerous.]
Kanji Tatsumi | Persona 4 Golden
Rrgh- waitwait, hold on. This wooly lining's givin' me a bad itch...
[Who needs a tank? You've got a tank. Though some wonder where the 'berserker' line ends and 'Kanji' begins, he seemed to be doing alright after the several-hour chocobo ride to the forest to seek a treasure nestled within its core. But as he grasped his jacket and rolled his shoulders, he was having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction with the soft-lined armor granted to him by the guild.
Though he grunted confirmation that he'd fixed the issue- a lie, and he'd need to check the lining later to see if the wool had been treated properly prior to armor crafting- he still looked a tad surly as he shook the very large war hammer from his back. The way he swung it, it was like it weighed nothing at all.]
A'right, good enough. Got that map handy? This place looks huge...
[G- Get a Job (The Other Kind)!]
HrrrrrrRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!
[Never let a berserker clean your house. Never let a berserker clean your house. Because what happens is a man that's down on the floor, roaring at the dust and dirt as he pushes a rag along the hardwood. He raced down the hallways, powered by sheer testosterone... or boredom. This was just like cleaning the textile shop back home.
Ever stop in and see how damn clean the place is? You're welcome.
But the owners of this particular item shop are standing on their chairs, eyes side as saucers as they watch all of this happening. That's when you come in, and are greeted in a rather distracted tone, all while the sounds of some kind of wild beast are going on in the back. If you lean, you see glimpses of some form hunched on the floor racing along.]
[I- Random Encounter!]
[Welp, showtime. Maybe you were in a bit of a jam or accidentally wandered off alone to do a little training. Whatever the case, that's a behemoth, all horns and a lofty shade of purple and a hell of a lot of magic nobody wants to deal with.
But before it can strike back, something clocks it right over the head and sends it reeling. Running after the object was some guy clad in armors of the Berserker's Guild, who gathers up the fallen hammer and falls back into line. As the beast bellows its anger over being struck, he bares a toothy grin right back. Living here was kind of awesome, if a bit... dangerous.]
I gotcha! It's your turn!
[He nodded to you.]