The clattering of boots and wagon wheels, the shouts of fishermen and dockworkers and the overwhelming smells of the ocean pervade the air everywhere you turn. It's the beginning of a typical day in the small working class town of Tidestrewn, though an unhindered look past these common sights reveals vibrant green meadows and thickly forested hills to the west, while eastwards a glorious morning sun surrounded by fluffy white clouds blazes cheerfully down on the endless expanse of the sea.

Near the road that leads down to the old docks, an area hardly visited anymore except by stray dogs and squabbling seagulls, observant locals might have noticed that a long-abandoned warehouse has recently had its windows scrubbed clean and a sagging section of roof replaced. A bored-looking mule is hitched to a small cart near the front door, and after a few moments a young woman steps outside carrying a hammer and a small bag of nails. The girl is slenderly built, but with flat, lean muscles that suggest she's no pushover despite her small size. Her skin is light brown, and her eyes are dark and inquisitive. She's dressed in an odd mixture of rough homespun clothing and pieced-together finery--scraps of silk and lace stitched into colorful adornments here and there, and her weather-beaten canvas coat is sewn all over with a mind-boggling assortment of beads and trinkets.

Setting her tools down for a minute, she absentmindedly ties her long black hair back with a scarf (decorated similarly to the jacket) and then begins rummaging around in the back of the cart to retrieve a long painted board. With a few determined whacks of the hammer it's soon nailed in place just beside the door. The words 'Tidestrewn Treasure Hunters Association' are painted on the board in large bold letters, and after a bit of thought she goes again to the cart and pulls out a small jar of paint, adding 'NOW OPEN--Join today!' in red just below it before stepping back to review her handiwork with a bright smile, glancing expectantly up and down the empty road as though a potential new guild member might come walking up at any moment.

He had been here four days now. Four days of wandering through the small port town of Tidestrewn while his body mended itself back together. Four days of watching the same people and dilapidated buildings through low-set gold eyes that picked through each and every detail visible to his naked sight. Mattox Dooley was not a man who sat by the wayside as life passed him on, certainly not, but he had no choice. This was where he had been forced to get off of the ship, but only after a moving farewell from the crew of course, and where he was now forced to wait. The beating was hardly deserved, or so he felt, but a busted hand and being bruised in places where he shouldn't be had made it a hindrance to try and find a way free from the insignificant town of Tidestrewn. It was for this exact reason he had started stomping through the place, watching people and observing happenings.

Very few locals paid him mind by now as all he did was walk, ignoring any inquiries to his battered state. The first day he had arrived to a cheap tavern while bloodied and fuming, scuffed bag held loosely in one hand and the other hand held tight to his chest. He'd had enough coins to room him for the next week and had quickly booked his room. From there Mattox had patched up the best he could with only one set of working fingers in the safety of privacy but the bruises and cuts that covered his face were hard to miss. Sharp, floppy ears hadn't missed the sideways conversation wagging tongues had about him but once they found his demeanor to be icy, and any interest into how he came about in his current condition downright rude in response, they let him be. It gave him plenty of time to consider how best next to proceed once he was finished knitting inside, not for once pleased he had an accelerated rate of cell reproduction; nothing wrong with getting to enjoy the perks of being an accident certainly. Which was how he came to notice the dark haired woman before a freshly composed sign peering down the deserted road he was travelling upon.

Mattox was far from interested in interacting with anyone, especially in this town, but critical eyes caught onto the single word treasure, interest spiking. He'd need more money soon and perhaps there was work to be ready in this association. With that choice the dark-skinned man stepped towards the woman, plastering on a pleasant smile as he made eye contact, brushing curled dirt locks away from his vision and forcing his tail still to a carefully neutral state.

"Excuse me, ma'am, how're you doin' this fine day?" he posed once close enough, voice deep and lazy, the accent unidentifiable but hardly there besides the cut to the occasional word or two. Mattox knew his manners even if he hadn't much displayed them with the prying townsfolk so far. He continued. "I noticed you've got a sign up there and was wonderin' if you could tell me a bit more?"