You sit on the platform of a wooden hut in the Lost Weaboos’ village , your feet dangling in the air and chewing on some grubloaf. Reconnaissance is boring work, hardly anything happens most of the time, but it’s gotta get done.

Against all your expectations, you see someone approaching through the trees, stepping into the clearing of the hidden village. You climb down and stare him down, lifting the butter knife you just used to make yourself a sandwich menacingly. Alright, maybe you might have forgotten to take a weapon with you when you climbed up.

He snorts softly at your method of defense and walks closer. "What is this... encampment you've got here, lowblood?" he asks, with the air of someone who has to report back with information.