application
PLAYER INFO
Name/Handle: Tess
Personal Journal:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nightsong
Contact: aim - glubtier
Current Characters: none
Player Age: 24
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Orphaner Dualscar
Series: Homestuck
Canon Point: En route to sell-out Mindfang's whereabouts to the Grand Highblood
Reference: MSPA Wiki
Age: Physically: Unknown but appears to be in his late 30s Mentally:5 sweeps and still wanting to touch butts About as mentally mature as you would expect a self-absorbed middle-aged man to be.
Gender: Both biologically and mentally male
Suitability: Well, he may pout like a child, but no. He's already an adult within the context of both his and human society.
Appearance: There are lots of different fandom interpretations but some are more canon than others, and we'll go with those.
Background: Once upon a very nebulous time, a group of twelve alien children embarked on a game-playing adventure that would destroy their home world with the promise of creating a new universe in which they would rule as gods-- if they won. The rigors of this game-- Sgrub, as it was called-- would put their docile nature to the test, and ultimately lead them to failure. Unable to meet this goal and facing down their own doom, the children were offered another option: they could choose to scratch the game session in order to force a restart, a clean slate to be played through start to finish. The only catch? In the new universe and new session, they would function not as players, but as the ancestors to the children who would become the new players. Their actions would pave the way for their descendents to participate in the new session in hopes of securing a win the second time around.
The new session would see a much different Alternia than the what came before. Contrary to the peaceful race trolls had once been, they were driven to violence in this new world, in hopes that this would foster a heartier group of players for the new session, who would be as ruthless as necessary in order to win. The caste divide would become a key role in causing discord, eventually leading to the revolt that would result in all adults trolls being banned from the planet, leaving the young trolls behind to fend for themselves and further shape them into self-sufficient players.
Once a player in the doomed Beta Sgrub session, one troll would go on to become Orphaner Dualscar, the ancestor to alpha session's player Eridan Ampora. As an example of what a proper seadweller should be, he grew up amidst a vicious aristocratic underwater society, dictated by nothing more than the violet coloration of blood he was hatched with. Sitting nicely at the top of the hemospectrum, the blood caste system would become a sticking point for him as he came of age and entered into the service of Alternia's Empress. In a time when adult trolls still roamed the planet, he would take to the seas (a fitting and natural environment for a seadwelling creature) and assume a role suited to his caste.
As a rifle-wielding Orphaner, he would use his marksmanship skills to slay the creatures that would be used to feed and pacify Her Imperious Condescension's massive Eldritch lusus. Carrying out this task for most of his life, it was not just out of loyalty, but out of expectation as well-- expectation that he would be recognized, and perhaps even have a shot at landing one of the Empress' quadrants. How unfortunate for him that harboring flushed feelings for the Empress would be considered a cull-worthy offense and that she would likely never know his name. And why should she? For all his efforts and success, Dualscar could never consider himself the most accomplished privateer on the high seas.
His ongoing crusade against Marquise Spinneret Mindfang and her band of Gamblignants was his mos treasured endeavor, though not his mos successful. But it served its purpose, being a key point of his kismessitude with the Marquise. Her continual one-uppance of many of his moves would leave him feeling resentful, and her redrom games with lower-caste trolls would leave him bitter and jealous beyond the throes of rivalry. So far beyond that it would come right back around and tread into flushed territory, a misstep that would case Mindfang to spurn him. This steadfast rejection of any red advances would lead him to have her own red interests assassinated and to use his connections to have an even larger bounty on her head. While ineffectual, it stands as a spiteful gesture, before the final stand against her that would become his downfall.
In attempting to get one last move in on the Marquise, he sough out higher authority in the Grand Highblood, keen on selling out Mindfang's secrets and giving away her whereabouts. The audience he is granted, according to later intelligence, does not go well. Despite delivering the information, it is presumed that he does not make it away from the encounter, falling prey to Subjugglator's unpredictable whims. He is presumed dead, and certainly is never heard from again from any known accounts.
Personality: As an exceptionally privileged member of Alternian society and a member of the troll nobility, Dualscar holds a lot of expectations-- for himself, and for trolls around him. He's proud of his station and lords it over others when given half the chance, particularly where spider trolls just so happen to be involved. A deep-rooted desire to maintain social order marks his actions, and his reactions, to an alarming and unflattering degree, even when deviation from the norm doesn't directly threaten his own standing. And as a prideful seadweller, it's only natural-- a duty, even! Having responsibilities is really hard. Keeping low-blooded trolls in line is a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.
Of course, there are exceptions-- rules and laws are something to be adhered only when it's beneficial, and for someone who considers themselves at the very top of the top, a little rule bending is inevitable. As long as it's in his favor, anyhow. For sweeps he avoids selling out his caliginous romantic interest, possibly in an effort to protect her from certain culling should she ever be caught, but also because a dead kismesis doesn't precisely do him a whole lot of good. He holds that which he values close to him, and perhaps if one were to tilt their head and squint, it might actually be endearing to see him go out of his way to be protective of even his long-standing rival. Maybe.
His rivalry, among other things, is fueled by a strong sense covetousness, the sort of desire possessed only by those who think they deserve all the best but secretly know otherwise. Envy is a dangerous sin, though, especially when one is impulsive and insecure all at the same time. It's one thing for a troll well below his caste to gain some sort of advantage, but all the worse when coming from someone who should be considered a more direct subordinate-- someone to whom he's much closer than a strange low-blood. His failures come to light in the face of others' achievements, belying a deep-rooted understanding of some kind of personal inadequacy, the sort of thing he likes to pretend doesn't exactly exist whatsoever.
Pretend as he might, it's obvious to just about everyone else around him. Lacking in the ability to disguise his own feelings as much as he might like, for someone with a lot of conflicting emotions to begin with, it certainly doesn't help his case. It might be more endearing if he didn't bring so much of it upon himself by overestimating his own worth, another downfall to add to an extensive list. The type of internal conflict between what sort of troll he would like to consider himself and what he knows is true is annoying at best, and alienating at worst. It only becomes dangerous when combined with impulsive decision making and natural seadweller volatility. When put into a desperate situation, he'll do what he needs to-- sell a romantic interest out, put himself in harm's way just to get the last blow, whatever it takes to regain the upper hand. It only takes two days from the time a potential flushed interest spurns him to have his potential romantic opposition assassinated, and just about as much time for him to make the move to sell out his kismesis' secrets, putting her in considerable danger.
But there's something to be said for all his efforts-- he's certainly ambitious. It takes a lot of gall to even consider courting the Empress, and even more dedication to stay at it despite the personal danger. That's devotion! And also stupidity. But mostly devotion. And any troll who has the ability to call on favors to do something like raising an Imperial bounty on the head of a rival must at at least a measure of resourcefulness and tact to his name-- or at least the good sense to feign tact. For however much he picks and chooses which parts of the system suit him best, he knows how to play the game and hobnob with the upper echelon of society, earning self some measure of political leverage. All part and parcel with being a seadweller, really.
Desperate to hang on to his own political and social standing, having incorporated them so wholly into his personal identity, taking that away from him will leave him both vulnerable and unpredictable. Going forward in a new setting, Dualscar is going to be thrown well out of his element, and far out of his comfort zone on many levels. He's never been anything less than the highest caste, so being knocked all the way down to the bottom will be a huge blow to his ego and livelihood. Much of how he handles this in regards to others will depend greatly on the sort of response he receives, but needless to say there will be a great deal of resistance and denial of his loss of status. Any amplified feelings of inadequacy will, of course, be suppressed and externalized in another form, most likely to a personally destructive degree. Whatever happens, he will be anything but pleased at first and acclimation is going to be a challenge in and of itself.
Given enough time, it will be possible for him to come to terms with it. It would not be at all below him to play the system and do what it takes to get back to the top, if he can manage to get over the demotion in the first place. Self-serving to the end, he's unlikely to wallow in his own self-pity for very long. This is where his ambition might truly be able to shine, at least, in terms of finding the motivation to get with the program and acquiesce to the new demands being placed upon him. Luckily, copulation being demanded by a higher authority is not an entirely new concept, and something already demanded of him, the only difference being the emphasis on pleasure rather than reproduction. If anything, it might be a reprieve to know that not only will he not specifically be culled for failing to do so, but rewarded if he does well.
Character Powers/Abilities/Skills: He's got a gun and he knows how to use it, for one. A gun that fires massive lasers and can shoot clean through a whale. A weapon like that would require considerable strength in order to be able to handle the kickback, but there's nothing superhuman about it-- just the kind of strength built up through years and years of the hard labors of being at sea. Beyond that, his abilities are limited to what you'd expect of a sea captain-- navigation, diplomacy, and an understanding of the workings of a ship.
SAMPLES
First Person Sample:
Wwhat is this wwizardry? Do you knoww just wwho you'vve kidnapped? No, on second thought, most likely not.
I refuse to believve anyone capable of organizin such an atrocity wwould be quite so daft.
Evven so, this is absolutely unacceptable. Knoww that you wwill be punished appropriately for such an affront.
Return me at once an pray to wwhatever pathetic deities you wwill that her Imperious Condescension feels like cullin you quickly.
The longer you delay, the wworse it wwill be for your fleshy kind.
Let's not draww this out an make it more difficult than need be.
Third Person Sample:
This was not Alternia-- not by any stretch of the imagination. Orphaner Dualscar had taken port on shores all across the planet and he had never encountered a harsh landscape that was so shockingly hospitable during the day. Though it was not pleasant to him by any means, the number of times he had bore the full light of day could be counted on one hand, and they were not enjoyable experiences by any means.
Despite being kidnapped and dropped in a strange landscape, he hadn't really needed to be rescued. As much as it may have looked as though he was getting pummeled by whatever that thing was, he has been caught off guard and nothing more. Reaching for Ahab's Crosshairs and not finding his trusty weapon had set him off course, but only momentarily. Many a greater adversary had tried to take him on (greater, he thought, though it was rather hard to compare, not knowing exactly what your adversary was) and had failed spectacularly to take him out for the count. At least as far as his own accounts were concerned, and those were really the only ones that mattered.
To have an unnecessary rescue forced upon him was insult enough, but now to be told that he would be homed in a lowblood's hovel was unacceptable, and had him fuming as soon as he was sure there was a little privacy to be had. Unarmed and alone, fighting back hadn't seemed feasible, but to be marked like some foul-blooded slave and forced into the service of some unknown sovereign was a blow to his pride by which he could not abide. They could paint it with whatever fancy words they want to, plea for his help, but he could see the true colors of this gesture, for the act of war that it truly was. Well, if this pathetic little planet wanted war, they only had to ask. The Empire would have been glad to oblige.
Pacing around the proffered dwelling, he couldn't help but grit his teeth as his mind turned over all the possibilities for escaped and he came to the realization that it was something of an ingenuous prison. At least, he'd never considered the idea before: he was free to move about as he liked, but to what end? Where would he go, what would he do? Everything he had captchalogued was gone, even his beloved rifle, but he was marooned in what was otherwise something of an oasis. Enough comforts to get by, enough freedom to tease with the possibility of an easy escape, and yet he could do nothing to improve his situation immediately.
It was frustrating yet impressive all the same, and something he could use as leverage when he was made to present the details of his capture. He would need a good excuse too, but it was easy enough to claim being caught alone and outnumbered ten-- no, twenty to one. Even for a great sharp-shot like himself, he could only shoot in a single direction at once, and you had to figure in recharging time and taking aim, now didn't you? The plan was forming in his mind clearly, and he had to break his scowl for just a moment. He would find out what he could of this world, gather its secrets, and present them to the Grand Highblood along with the intel he had saved on the Marquise. Any lesser of troll would have been set to lamenting their own fate-- surely he had not been there for some time already, wallowing in the situation. Never him.
Settling on a vague plan of action calmed him just enough to keep him from tearing up the room in a fit of rage, but only barely. He might need these sparse accommodations, as insulting and unfit for high-ranking royalty, as it were, but if nothing else, he was a Commander in the Empress' navy, and he would bear the burden with all the poise expected of his kind. His mind remained tempestuous but manageable at least, and his attentions were able to turn to a side table of some sorts. He'd come to stand in front of it, unaware of why but feeling like it was meant to be. Predestiny seemed a terrible thing to waste on something so simply, but there on the table laid a small mirror, and something about it urged him to pick it up. Tracing his fingers along the edges, he had a strange feeling about it, and scoffed at such a nonsensical thought. The heat must have been getting to him.
Pocketing the mirror anyway with the distinct feeling that it might turn out to be useful for something, he turned to the window, resting calloused palms against the frame and gazing outward. He wondered if they had any idea what havoc they were threatening to bring upon themselves? Well, time would tell.
Name/Handle: Tess
Personal Journal:
nightsongContact: aim - glubtier
Current Characters: none
Player Age: 24
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Orphaner Dualscar
Series: Homestuck
Canon Point: En route to sell-out Mindfang's whereabouts to the Grand Highblood
Reference: MSPA Wiki
Age: Physically: Unknown but appears to be in his late 30s Mentally:
Gender: Both biologically and mentally male
Suitability: Well, he may pout like a child, but no. He's already an adult within the context of both his and human society.
Appearance: There are lots of different fandom interpretations but some are more canon than others, and we'll go with those.
Background: Once upon a very nebulous time, a group of twelve alien children embarked on a game-playing adventure that would destroy their home world with the promise of creating a new universe in which they would rule as gods-- if they won. The rigors of this game-- Sgrub, as it was called-- would put their docile nature to the test, and ultimately lead them to failure. Unable to meet this goal and facing down their own doom, the children were offered another option: they could choose to scratch the game session in order to force a restart, a clean slate to be played through start to finish. The only catch? In the new universe and new session, they would function not as players, but as the ancestors to the children who would become the new players. Their actions would pave the way for their descendents to participate in the new session in hopes of securing a win the second time around.
The new session would see a much different Alternia than the what came before. Contrary to the peaceful race trolls had once been, they were driven to violence in this new world, in hopes that this would foster a heartier group of players for the new session, who would be as ruthless as necessary in order to win. The caste divide would become a key role in causing discord, eventually leading to the revolt that would result in all adults trolls being banned from the planet, leaving the young trolls behind to fend for themselves and further shape them into self-sufficient players.
Once a player in the doomed Beta Sgrub session, one troll would go on to become Orphaner Dualscar, the ancestor to alpha session's player Eridan Ampora. As an example of what a proper seadweller should be, he grew up amidst a vicious aristocratic underwater society, dictated by nothing more than the violet coloration of blood he was hatched with. Sitting nicely at the top of the hemospectrum, the blood caste system would become a sticking point for him as he came of age and entered into the service of Alternia's Empress. In a time when adult trolls still roamed the planet, he would take to the seas (a fitting and natural environment for a seadwelling creature) and assume a role suited to his caste.
As a rifle-wielding Orphaner, he would use his marksmanship skills to slay the creatures that would be used to feed and pacify Her Imperious Condescension's massive Eldritch lusus. Carrying out this task for most of his life, it was not just out of loyalty, but out of expectation as well-- expectation that he would be recognized, and perhaps even have a shot at landing one of the Empress' quadrants. How unfortunate for him that harboring flushed feelings for the Empress would be considered a cull-worthy offense and that she would likely never know his name. And why should she? For all his efforts and success, Dualscar could never consider himself the most accomplished privateer on the high seas.
His ongoing crusade against Marquise Spinneret Mindfang and her band of Gamblignants was his mos treasured endeavor, though not his mos successful. But it served its purpose, being a key point of his kismessitude with the Marquise. Her continual one-uppance of many of his moves would leave him feeling resentful, and her redrom games with lower-caste trolls would leave him bitter and jealous beyond the throes of rivalry. So far beyond that it would come right back around and tread into flushed territory, a misstep that would case Mindfang to spurn him. This steadfast rejection of any red advances would lead him to have her own red interests assassinated and to use his connections to have an even larger bounty on her head. While ineffectual, it stands as a spiteful gesture, before the final stand against her that would become his downfall.
In attempting to get one last move in on the Marquise, he sough out higher authority in the Grand Highblood, keen on selling out Mindfang's secrets and giving away her whereabouts. The audience he is granted, according to later intelligence, does not go well. Despite delivering the information, it is presumed that he does not make it away from the encounter, falling prey to Subjugglator's unpredictable whims. He is presumed dead, and certainly is never heard from again from any known accounts.
Personality: As an exceptionally privileged member of Alternian society and a member of the troll nobility, Dualscar holds a lot of expectations-- for himself, and for trolls around him. He's proud of his station and lords it over others when given half the chance, particularly where spider trolls just so happen to be involved. A deep-rooted desire to maintain social order marks his actions, and his reactions, to an alarming and unflattering degree, even when deviation from the norm doesn't directly threaten his own standing. And as a prideful seadweller, it's only natural-- a duty, even! Having responsibilities is really hard. Keeping low-blooded trolls in line is a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.
Of course, there are exceptions-- rules and laws are something to be adhered only when it's beneficial, and for someone who considers themselves at the very top of the top, a little rule bending is inevitable. As long as it's in his favor, anyhow. For sweeps he avoids selling out his caliginous romantic interest, possibly in an effort to protect her from certain culling should she ever be caught, but also because a dead kismesis doesn't precisely do him a whole lot of good. He holds that which he values close to him, and perhaps if one were to tilt their head and squint, it might actually be endearing to see him go out of his way to be protective of even his long-standing rival. Maybe.
His rivalry, among other things, is fueled by a strong sense covetousness, the sort of desire possessed only by those who think they deserve all the best but secretly know otherwise. Envy is a dangerous sin, though, especially when one is impulsive and insecure all at the same time. It's one thing for a troll well below his caste to gain some sort of advantage, but all the worse when coming from someone who should be considered a more direct subordinate-- someone to whom he's much closer than a strange low-blood. His failures come to light in the face of others' achievements, belying a deep-rooted understanding of some kind of personal inadequacy, the sort of thing he likes to pretend doesn't exactly exist whatsoever.
Pretend as he might, it's obvious to just about everyone else around him. Lacking in the ability to disguise his own feelings as much as he might like, for someone with a lot of conflicting emotions to begin with, it certainly doesn't help his case. It might be more endearing if he didn't bring so much of it upon himself by overestimating his own worth, another downfall to add to an extensive list. The type of internal conflict between what sort of troll he would like to consider himself and what he knows is true is annoying at best, and alienating at worst. It only becomes dangerous when combined with impulsive decision making and natural seadweller volatility. When put into a desperate situation, he'll do what he needs to-- sell a romantic interest out, put himself in harm's way just to get the last blow, whatever it takes to regain the upper hand. It only takes two days from the time a potential flushed interest spurns him to have his potential romantic opposition assassinated, and just about as much time for him to make the move to sell out his kismesis' secrets, putting her in considerable danger.
But there's something to be said for all his efforts-- he's certainly ambitious. It takes a lot of gall to even consider courting the Empress, and even more dedication to stay at it despite the personal danger. That's devotion! And also stupidity. But mostly devotion. And any troll who has the ability to call on favors to do something like raising an Imperial bounty on the head of a rival must at at least a measure of resourcefulness and tact to his name-- or at least the good sense to feign tact. For however much he picks and chooses which parts of the system suit him best, he knows how to play the game and hobnob with the upper echelon of society, earning self some measure of political leverage. All part and parcel with being a seadweller, really.
Desperate to hang on to his own political and social standing, having incorporated them so wholly into his personal identity, taking that away from him will leave him both vulnerable and unpredictable. Going forward in a new setting, Dualscar is going to be thrown well out of his element, and far out of his comfort zone on many levels. He's never been anything less than the highest caste, so being knocked all the way down to the bottom will be a huge blow to his ego and livelihood. Much of how he handles this in regards to others will depend greatly on the sort of response he receives, but needless to say there will be a great deal of resistance and denial of his loss of status. Any amplified feelings of inadequacy will, of course, be suppressed and externalized in another form, most likely to a personally destructive degree. Whatever happens, he will be anything but pleased at first and acclimation is going to be a challenge in and of itself.
Given enough time, it will be possible for him to come to terms with it. It would not be at all below him to play the system and do what it takes to get back to the top, if he can manage to get over the demotion in the first place. Self-serving to the end, he's unlikely to wallow in his own self-pity for very long. This is where his ambition might truly be able to shine, at least, in terms of finding the motivation to get with the program and acquiesce to the new demands being placed upon him. Luckily, copulation being demanded by a higher authority is not an entirely new concept, and something already demanded of him, the only difference being the emphasis on pleasure rather than reproduction. If anything, it might be a reprieve to know that not only will he not specifically be culled for failing to do so, but rewarded if he does well.
Character Powers/Abilities/Skills: He's got a gun and he knows how to use it, for one. A gun that fires massive lasers and can shoot clean through a whale. A weapon like that would require considerable strength in order to be able to handle the kickback, but there's nothing superhuman about it-- just the kind of strength built up through years and years of the hard labors of being at sea. Beyond that, his abilities are limited to what you'd expect of a sea captain-- navigation, diplomacy, and an understanding of the workings of a ship.
SAMPLES
First Person Sample:
Wwhat is this wwizardry? Do you knoww just wwho you'vve kidnapped? No, on second thought, most likely not.
I refuse to believve anyone capable of organizin such an atrocity wwould be quite so daft.
Evven so, this is absolutely unacceptable. Knoww that you wwill be punished appropriately for such an affront.
Return me at once an pray to wwhatever pathetic deities you wwill that her Imperious Condescension feels like cullin you quickly.
The longer you delay, the wworse it wwill be for your fleshy kind.
Let's not draww this out an make it more difficult than need be.
Third Person Sample:
This was not Alternia-- not by any stretch of the imagination. Orphaner Dualscar had taken port on shores all across the planet and he had never encountered a harsh landscape that was so shockingly hospitable during the day. Though it was not pleasant to him by any means, the number of times he had bore the full light of day could be counted on one hand, and they were not enjoyable experiences by any means.
Despite being kidnapped and dropped in a strange landscape, he hadn't really needed to be rescued. As much as it may have looked as though he was getting pummeled by whatever that thing was, he has been caught off guard and nothing more. Reaching for Ahab's Crosshairs and not finding his trusty weapon had set him off course, but only momentarily. Many a greater adversary had tried to take him on (greater, he thought, though it was rather hard to compare, not knowing exactly what your adversary was) and had failed spectacularly to take him out for the count. At least as far as his own accounts were concerned, and those were really the only ones that mattered.
To have an unnecessary rescue forced upon him was insult enough, but now to be told that he would be homed in a lowblood's hovel was unacceptable, and had him fuming as soon as he was sure there was a little privacy to be had. Unarmed and alone, fighting back hadn't seemed feasible, but to be marked like some foul-blooded slave and forced into the service of some unknown sovereign was a blow to his pride by which he could not abide. They could paint it with whatever fancy words they want to, plea for his help, but he could see the true colors of this gesture, for the act of war that it truly was. Well, if this pathetic little planet wanted war, they only had to ask. The Empire would have been glad to oblige.
Pacing around the proffered dwelling, he couldn't help but grit his teeth as his mind turned over all the possibilities for escaped and he came to the realization that it was something of an ingenuous prison. At least, he'd never considered the idea before: he was free to move about as he liked, but to what end? Where would he go, what would he do? Everything he had captchalogued was gone, even his beloved rifle, but he was marooned in what was otherwise something of an oasis. Enough comforts to get by, enough freedom to tease with the possibility of an easy escape, and yet he could do nothing to improve his situation immediately.
It was frustrating yet impressive all the same, and something he could use as leverage when he was made to present the details of his capture. He would need a good excuse too, but it was easy enough to claim being caught alone and outnumbered ten-- no, twenty to one. Even for a great sharp-shot like himself, he could only shoot in a single direction at once, and you had to figure in recharging time and taking aim, now didn't you? The plan was forming in his mind clearly, and he had to break his scowl for just a moment. He would find out what he could of this world, gather its secrets, and present them to the Grand Highblood along with the intel he had saved on the Marquise. Any lesser of troll would have been set to lamenting their own fate-- surely he had not been there for some time already, wallowing in the situation. Never him.
Settling on a vague plan of action calmed him just enough to keep him from tearing up the room in a fit of rage, but only barely. He might need these sparse accommodations, as insulting and unfit for high-ranking royalty, as it were, but if nothing else, he was a Commander in the Empress' navy, and he would bear the burden with all the poise expected of his kind. His mind remained tempestuous but manageable at least, and his attentions were able to turn to a side table of some sorts. He'd come to stand in front of it, unaware of why but feeling like it was meant to be. Predestiny seemed a terrible thing to waste on something so simply, but there on the table laid a small mirror, and something about it urged him to pick it up. Tracing his fingers along the edges, he had a strange feeling about it, and scoffed at such a nonsensical thought. The heat must have been getting to him.
Pocketing the mirror anyway with the distinct feeling that it might turn out to be useful for something, he turned to the window, resting calloused palms against the frame and gazing outward. He wondered if they had any idea what havoc they were threatening to bring upon themselves? Well, time would tell.