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Hefting a suddenly heavy backpack onto his shoulders, Quint heard the plan without complaint, getting a small devilish grin at the phrase 'with extreme prejudice'. If everything wrapped up neatly, the goblins won't even know what happened before the end. Only one snag he could see, "What about intel on any alarms? If they're smart enough to force people to make these weapons, it'd only take a small wire on a string of bells to alert the entire base.."

For a moment, Quint would close his eyes, respectful to the prayer. But soon, after peeking to notice most of the others had closed their eyes, his opened, grabbing another quiet gulp of his beer. For most of the prayer, Quint kind of rolled his eyes, but perked up towards the end.

"God have mercy on us all."

"Mercy?" Quint hated that word. "We can give mercy. St. Ajora can give mercy. But THIS?!" Quint pointed at, then picked up the sharp bolt, prodding at its tip with a finger, "This won't give us mercy. THEY won't give us mercy, so I suggest you all keep your head on straight so you're not begging for a mercy these goblins don't have."

Elbow on the table, head in hand, Quint heard the others make their introductions, but he wasn't really listening. Instead, the call out for a lager was met his other arm raising up to gain the waiter's attention. "Same here, a lager, and keep 'em comin'." Placing his money on the table, he quickly went into his own greeting. Though his physique wasn't large, the muscles he did have were tight. A brown shirt clung to his shoulders, embossed with the wanted posters of a few of the region's more notorious monsters like the deadly Malboro gang and the stoner Cocatoris family. Below that a pair of roomy black pants, allowing the mobility he needed both on offense and defense. Rounding out the ensamble but hidden from the other member's view was a pair of custom brown shoes, given to him by a grateful cordwainer after Quint ran off a small contingent of Flotiballs that rather liked leather.
 
Rising to his feet, Quint would clear his throat and speak not unlike a teacher with a new set of students. "Quint here, your resident brawler. Simply put, I'm here to put dents in monsters' chests." His arms then outstretched forward, showing the group the myriad of discolored patches from old bruises and a couple of darkened cuts over his hands and wrist. "You guys just stick to the back and we'll do fine." Though he didn't speak directly to them, that statement was obviously for the less vigorous members in the party. "Especially since...Ah, speak of the devil.."

Before long the drinks that had been ordered were served out, Quint taking his mug and gulping down a couple big swills. "...Since once I get my 'victory juice' in me, whatever's in front get beaten down." Though he put up a tough demeanor, Quint was pretty nervous about the mission itself, the drinking more to calm his nerves than ramp up his ire. Never before had he seen goblins with weapons of this quality, and if the goblins had anything special the guards hadn't seen, they could be in for trouble.

Suggestion noted. Lacking healing, cash past what a room would cost or even a meal in this seedy inn, the two were very vulnerable. Add to that the rather expensive cargo and you had a need to sleep with one eye open. It seemed though that no one had followed them, a small reprieve.

As for the nosy innkeeper, "Just passing through. Got a night's worth of gold and a bit extra if we could get a room down here with a window. Not for nothin, but this place smells like the air itself needs an antidote.." Quint would wave his hand in front of his nose for emphasis.

Name: Quint
Primary: Monk
Secondary: Battle Skill
Reaction: Arrow Guard
Support: Martial Arts
Movement: Move HP-Up

Skills:
Repeating Fist
Wave Fist

Power Ruin

Background: A somewhat seasoned veteran, Quint has been hunting for just under a year. His bounties included a few raging chocobos, one goblin thief squad and a pack of Courels that threatened the livestock on a farm. A fighter of fist and feet, Quint never really liked bladed weapons, always felt less...personal. There's a certain satisfaction he gets by getting his hands dirty. Is a team player in the sense that he'll probably be the first person to the front, which forces the enemy to concentrate their fire on him, keeping the spindly mages safe.

Before I even get into these matches, just a small request for the Losers Finals

Could you use this song? It sounds like that epic struggle to claw your way out of hell. A final battle against your toughest opponent yet, with the shimmer of a not so distant light behind them, taunting you to make it past that one last fight.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3mqIDAVObA

Now for the battle itself

Very exciting, monks hitting for 200+, Don't Acts flying around like bees and the occasional jump sends up straight to the third round. 400 damage Holy? Jesus.. Then yeah, Raise 2 missed, GG. Lots of Don't Acts helped, but that miss was the nail in the proverbial coffin. Amazing match though, intense.

KATIAAAA!!

so many feelings, can't control the emotions..

"Well...I.." Quint trailed off, but soon snapped back, "I just didn't know from the bag. O-Of course I know what it is, just never seen this much before, I've only seen it lined up on tables, not in these pouches.." An obvious lie. Besides, how would he turn this into money anyhow, and probably more importantly..

"Two more questions and you're free to go. First, who's was this? Don't wanna find out this goes higher than your boss. Secondly, and I don't even know why you'd help me but...how would I get rid of this?" For the first time since he first met the thieves, he laughed nervously. "Maybe I help you out too? There's a lot here, I'd gladly give you some of it for your...troubles today if you help me out..?"

Tired of being reactionary, Quint brought the fight to Machete, holding the shovel at waist height, using it to limit his opponent's options with swinging his blade. Like with Junior, Quint was able to close the distance without much hassle. Unlike with Junior, the initial jerk to the side was met with a broad sweep of Machete's weapon. This was countered with Quint running the metal tool end across the edge of the machete, ending not a half step away from the leader at the hilt. From here he'd simply shove his hardest into Machete, dropping the shovel and forcing both in a sprawl to the floor of the dusty house.

A small struggle for control ensued, blows were exchanged by both and punches turned to curses as Quint finally got an upper hand first by isolating the hand his opponent was using to hold the weapon, and the other firmly around Machete's throat. With a good mounted position, Quint kept his grasps until the bucking from beneath him slowed, then finally stopped. Quint wasn't trying to kill the man, but he'd leave his hand there for a few more moments after the struggling ceased, not ready to make the same mistake twice.

Slowly Quint would rise to his feet to meet the only other person still standing on their own accord, the mage, who turned out to not be a threat at all. Shuffling over close to the mage, Quint cleared his throat.

"Lets try that again. Give me whats in the box and I don't have to rough you up." He'd give the mage a stern poke to the chest, a clear sign he wasn't playing around.

Now visibly panting, Quint took the first few moments checking his back, finding that those who were down were staying down. Those who were standing in the mage and Junior didn't seem aggressive, but he was trying to stay on his guard, even if by now he was having a hard time keeping his arms up. Taking his time to catch his breath, Quint would try diplomacy again. Usually people are inclined to talk if they don't have the upper hand.

"..Still don't want to hurt you.." Quint looked towards both the mage and Junior, but then remembered that chest in the other room.

"...But I need you to do one thing for me. That box downstairs? I want what's in it, then you can go."

Here he'd put on his best chocobo dispute posture, standing tall and puffing his chest out in an attempt to intimidate; "Not unless you wanna end up like your friends there.." A look across the room would still find the Brass statue motionless in the corner.