Ghost Signals

With a world that had lost as much as Plant had, sentimentality could be found in even the most inhospitable of places. Areas where life had once flourished that only existed as fond memories for those that recalled a time before the land had turned into a maze of miasma and spires that only obscured the true extent of the decay within by the unwillingness of people to venture into it.

Inexplicably dragged back to this world against his will, one Tarine's immediate priorities was to scrape together whatever Zeni he could find and fly back to Earth and face whatever mess had been left behind in his city. But as simple as asking for pennies was, having his senses drink in the ki of so many Tuffles after so long made the idea abhorrent. Could he really just take from them? After all the times he'd failed when they needed him most?

If he wanted anything he would earn it.

Of course when you had no ID and were stuck wearing the same clothes for an indetermanate number of days not many people wanted to hire you when the only qualification you could prove was having a power level- unless they were desperate.

Allegedly a figure of some importance in the earlier decades of the war, this person had been forced to abandon many projects and keepsakes in their rush to escape the clouds of destron rolling towards their residence in the area now only refered to by the name of the gas choking the landscape. Wishing to reclaim something of theirs in their advanced age, they were calling for people to traverse the crags in order to recover the property for them for a not unsubstantual reward.

Tarine perhaps accepted too quickly considering they weren't exactly witholding the amount of hazards he would face. Convincing himself he was doing a good deed was easy when the story struck a chord, but these people had the uncanny ability to bring out the desire to please in him.

They were generous enough to offer a hazmat suit of sorts that would supposedly protect him from the worst of the toxic chemicals in the air- since he quite obviously wasn't in the position to own one. He had to admit it was cumbersome to wear while treking through miles of identical rocky pathways as a thick fog obscured most of what laid ahead, but testing the theory of ki users having a natural resistance to toxins wasn't on his to-do list so he'd grumble through it for as long as he had to.

Though still paranoid of the warning he recalled earlier of sporadic acid rain showers corrosive enough to melt through suit and skin alike, he took refuge under an overhanging section of rock before peering through the lenses of his helmet at the radar he'd been given for this job... though this far in, the destron-induced weather patterns tended to wreak havoc on sensors working within certain frequencies. Tarine shook and tapped the screen in frustration as dots started to dance accross the screen depicting structures that weren't there, hoping the action would somehow fix the device long enough to tell him where to go next.