quests

An odd request had been given to him from Fortune. Make others laugh at someone's expense.

Juvenile. Foolish. He thought perhaps Fortune wouldn't be so ridiculous, but maybe this was a way to get a laugh at his expense, to feed off of stooping so low. It's annoying, agitating, but he has to do it. Anything to get the coveted power he so craves. The thought makes him think back to his childhood, filled with nothing but pain and anger. He had never gotten a chance to hang out with anyone his own age, not that their people would have allowed it to happen. Too many young, training for tasks of the adults, to replace the fallen and take up arms and pillage where possible. No one had a true childhood where he came from.

Not that he should miss it, really, and he's certain he doesn't. The thought flits through his mind, bringing with it a ringing phantom pain in his bones, along the scars of his body. 

The titan shakes his head rapidly, as if trying to shoo the thoughts with a heavy exhale, closing his eyes tight and gritting his teeth. 

In the middle of a village, it makes him look a bit mad, but he only shakes his entire body after, as if chasing off a shiver of the cold instead, slinking down an alley between two small buildings. The stares seem to fade, and he emerges from the other side, glancing up toward the bodies around him. Nothing, no one to truly create laughter.

That is, until he sees ... it? Them? 

His good eye squints a little as he sees the creature moving, seemingly made of nothing but tar. Hadn't he heard of this one before? The giant walking colossus? Something about them triggers something in his head, and he's certain he's heard of them. Lab-- something? Lab rat, maybe. Looks like something that some mad mage had cooked up.

He sneers to himself, making a loop to come along behind them, passing several stalls along the way. It's too easy to swipe up feathers and other objects, his telekinesis holding them rather tightly under the cloak he wears, and he makes a beeline. 

Rather than stop, he merely drops the objects along the long neck, the curve of a back, their rear.

Oddly enough, the objects stay, and he manages to make them stand even higher, smirking as he continues to walk, veering to the side. Turning from there, he can hear soft child-like laughter, and he spies the younger nonmages pointing and laughing. 

Fortune never did say he had to get laughter from adults, and something about this makes him ... oddly warm?

He hates it.