To say Sukai was moist was an understatement. Merely flying in the clouds for a couple minutes soaked Milo right through his jacket and pants, and had it not been for his Heart of Nova, he would be spending the next weekend trying to dry them off. In short, Milo was here for money, and possibly a short bender should the chance present itself. Unfortunately, Milo had recently attended a private art auction, and, needless to say, was robbed. He had paid a handsome amount for quite the piece; a lively, billowing phoenix that would serve as a fireplace in his home. A faux, of course, as Milo was not a cruel man to animals, but in transit, a ‘mix-up’ had occurred causing the artwork to be lost. Of course, Milo knew better than to chalk this up and jumped to the tabloids to find his missing piece.
“Sukai,” he gritted, perched up on a piece of rock jutting out from the waterfalls overlooking a valley of estates. “Always the rich bastards that try to bend the rules.”
Luckily for Milo, he was not the only man robbed of this piece. On the job boards, another aristocrat who proclaimed to have bought the artwork was requesting that a capable mage come and retrieve it for its rightful owner. By what means, however, the aristocrat did not include, leaving Milo to use his imagination; a truly frightening feat by any standards. Milo hummed a song to himself as he observed the manor where his art resided, pondering through which door he should make his entrance. On the south side of the building were four main gates that he could see, each comprised of an ivory arch and a pair of standard-looking guards. Milo scoffed at that, almost feeling offended by the circumstance; there was no guard in the universe that could stop him from breaking into a manor. The west side of the manor, however, housed a garden, denoted by a rather large hedge maze and sparkling fountains.
Though, the mercenary wondered how grand of an entrance he should make. His right fingers drummed on the stone next to him, drowned out by the noise of the waterfall, and his left twirled the Moonrock Sickle like a ballpoint pen. A fire burned inside him, eager to cause a scene.
“Sukai,” he gritted, perched up on a piece of rock jutting out from the waterfalls overlooking a valley of estates. “Always the rich bastards that try to bend the rules.”
Luckily for Milo, he was not the only man robbed of this piece. On the job boards, another aristocrat who proclaimed to have bought the artwork was requesting that a capable mage come and retrieve it for its rightful owner. By what means, however, the aristocrat did not include, leaving Milo to use his imagination; a truly frightening feat by any standards. Milo hummed a song to himself as he observed the manor where his art resided, pondering through which door he should make his entrance. On the south side of the building were four main gates that he could see, each comprised of an ivory arch and a pair of standard-looking guards. Milo scoffed at that, almost feeling offended by the circumstance; there was no guard in the universe that could stop him from breaking into a manor. The west side of the manor, however, housed a garden, denoted by a rather large hedge maze and sparkling fountains.
Though, the mercenary wondered how grand of an entrance he should make. His right fingers drummed on the stone next to him, drowned out by the noise of the waterfall, and his left twirled the Moonrock Sickle like a ballpoint pen. A fire burned inside him, eager to cause a scene.