(latched*)

Castor jolts awake. "Eh?" He looks around, a bit confused, but sees the stoic Bisharp and shoots them a devious wink. They flinch. He hops back up and slips his flask into his pack. "Well Flaire, now we bite this city before it has a chance to bite us." He stepped off of the gangplank, whistling a peppy tune.

Castor smiled widely. "My dear, I live life half drunk. It is much more pleasant than being faced with the brutality of reality." He grabbed a pouch of coins he had and weighed in in his hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have precisely enough gold, stolen of course, to get us by for a few days of merriment. Then we will have to slave like dogs. So let us enjoy the time we have."

Castor thought for a bit and then flagged down one of the Bisharp guards. "Oy! Where will refugees find their housing?" The Pokémon laughed in his face. "The slums, boy. Five to a home... And looks like you have your five." He pulled out a small metal key and threw it at Castor's feet. "Number 17, leeches." He turned and strutted off.

Castor picked it up and turned to the group. He slowly grinned before whooping. "We have ourselves a home! After me, leeches!" He marched off in the direction of the slums, by all stretches of the imagination, ecstatic.

Castor looked back at Carmite and saw him looking over the marketplace. There were stands of fantastic weapons, sleek armor, charms, trinkets, a bit of everything. "Oy, Carmite, I see you eyeing those crowds. Anything in mind?"

"Ha, not a half hour into this city and you're considering crime. I like the way you think." He flashed a toothy smile at the rest of the group. "So, would you all care to join Carmite and I in our exploits?"

Castor considered it quickly and retorted, "Absolutely no promises. But I will try to keep my dagger stain-free, darling." The group approached the slums, a series of small, run down buildings a the edge of the city. He took a deep breath. "Ah, take it in. The smell of lost hope and grime. Just like home." He went down the rows, looking for number 17.

"15...16...17... Ah, 17! Here we are, leeches, home sweet home!" He turned the key on the latch and swung open the creaky door. The inside was pathetic. (Description time)

The main room was small and dimly lit. A few lanterns hung from the walls, casting an orange glow. There were two bedrooms with two low, cramped beds each and an even tinier bathroom. In the main room there was a tiny oven with rusty pots and pans, along with a sink. There were shelves along the walls and a chimney that had some firewood inside, along with a wooden table and a few chairs.

Castor stood in the doorway, hands on his hips. "All in all, much better than I expected." He walked in and set a few bottles of alcohol on a shelf. "Ah... Now it's home."

Castor cracked open a wax seal on one of his bottles and took a swig. He slinked over to a bed, tossing his pack on the ground. "Ah... Anyone in the mood for some celebratory Bourbon?"

Castor winks at her. "Don't worry darling, I don't bite... much." He cackles at his own humor. When he settles down enough, he adds, "But in all seriousness, I am strictly business." He begins to laugh again. "Oh, who am I kidding, I've never enjoyed business..."

Castor reached under the bed and moved his hand around, looking for anything. His finger hit something metal. He put his fingers around it and brought it up to his face. "I found... A metal rod. Why." He tossed it across the room, and it hit the floor with a clang. "Our 'game plan', darling, is to acquire coin. However we must."

(Ignore that last comment, if you saw it :V) Castor took another long draft of Bourbon and sighed. "My suggestion is we follow them to their homes under cover of darkness, enter unnoticed, subdue them if necessary and take what we need. Which means, rob them blind."

(Ok guys, I'm literally on the verge of falling asleep. I like where this is headed. Continue tomorrow?)

Castor got up and stretched. "When night falls we head to the market. Follow the black-capped men to their residence, unnoticed. If you are noticed, retreat. They will not look in the slums. To them, we are leeches, content to live off of there backs. We will be more." (Goodnight guys)

(Sorry, I kinda slept in :P Everybody here?)

(Ha, looks like everyone's here. Shall we pick up where we left off?)

(Ha, she's been yeahing my comments.) Castor snapped his fingers. "The Rhydon's Den! Hear it's got the best ale and grub in Pokéwall. I'm roaring for some fine steak." He liked his lips.

(licked*)

(I was havin' a quick lunch) Castor marched through, eager to get himself some food on his belly. "Thank you, sirrah."

Castor huffed. "I've never been in a barfight that I haven't won. All these lightweights and barflys don't know who they're messing with."

"Ha, that's a fact I savor. My home was a wasteland. I'm glad I got the chance to leave. C'mon, let's go have ourselves a pint and some chow." He started walking off to the bar.

He looked back at Flaire and grinned. "Dulls reality. The world no longer holds interest in my eyes, so I need something to ignite that. I came from a land known as the Windshear Wastes. Its inhabitants are criminals and the condemned by society. I'm the son of a criminal. Managed to sneak aboard the barge as it passed, hoping for a better life. The rest is up to fate."

Castor shrugged. "I'm a Toxicroak, got poison in my veins. I don't think a bit more is gonna do me much harm. Besides, reality can bite me."

Castor puts his arm around Flaire. "C'mon, darling, loosen up. We've got a big job to pull off tonight." They arrive at the bar, a wide wooden building with a red roof. On the door there was a painted Rhydon. "We have arrived!"

Castor tossed his coin pouch in the air and caught it. "Bit'a silver bit'a gold. I told you, we'd be well off for the next few days." Castor pushed the double doors open and stepped inside. The bar was a hive of activity. Music was being played by bards onstage, scantily-clad barmaids were serving all too eager patrons and a fireplace roared in the center, giving it a warm, homey feel.

Behind th e bar, bartenders were busy serving and mixing drinks. Castor went to a the bar and ordered a pint of Blackbriar Mead and Tauros steak before collapsing into the wooden chair of a near table. He tapped his foot to the beat of the lively music while he waited.

One of the barmaids, a Loppunny dressed in a short skirt and a midriff-bearing frilly blouse brought him his steak and mead. Castor winked at her and tossed a silver coin. She caught it and blew a kiss. "Oh, I love me these barmaids." He picked up his flagon and took a large gulp. "Ah..."

Castor dug into his steak feverishly, only pausing to take drinks of mead. When he finished, he put his hands on his belly and leaned back, extremely satisfied. "I haven't had a meal this good in... Ever. Arceus, that steak was second to none." He burped rather loudly.

Castor turned his chair around to face the rest of the group. "So how shall we approach the delicate subject of tonight's heist?"

Castor scoffed. "It's a bar. Not a soul cares for what you have to say or do. I could take off all my clothes right now and dance along with the bards and not a person here would notice. Not that I'm going to, sirrah." Castor picked some meat from his teeth. "I will be infiltrating the houses of these elite merchants. See what kind of riches they have for us."