Cron Vulus
Cron's head ached. Although to be fair, and accurate Cron's EVERYTHING ached.
It always did after a hard night of vice and boat racing, but like his dear sweet Oba would remind him, "You brought this on yourself..." He finished the sentence with a slight huff and leaned up against the broom he'd been mindlessly pushing around the room. It wasn't even midday. It was cruel and unusual to be awake at this hour, and completely sober too! But Granny insisted. Granny always insisted. And since he'd apparently burned a gondola last night, an event which he had no memory of, he couldn't really argue with her.
He glanced down at the floor, the one he was supposed to be cleaning. Ashes and sake stains, loose coins and splintered wood. Vomit. Other...Things he didn't want to question. It was a horrible collage of human filth, anyone else would be repulsed, and if they had working sinuses unlike poor Cron, they'd be knocked over by the stink alone. Despite the pounding in his head and ache in his back he found himself smiling at the dried puke puddle by his feet.
This was home. His home. Where he belonged. And all the mess did was tell a bleary story about another party in the endless string of mirth his home provided.
Anyone else might be miserable. He'd already been up for hours, deprived of sleep and joy, scrubbing on hands and knees. To him though, it was just earning his keep. Making the place ready for his massive family of drunks and gambl-
"Manditory meeting at the cliff!"
He didn't even need to wait for the sentence to be finished, his best friend was hailing him loud and clear. Already he'd tossed aside his broom and torn off his apron. After all, that cesspit of a gambling house could wait, and if Granny had a problem? She could stuff it. More important things to do now.
Of course, running up to his room and getting changed took a lot longer than it should've. Sure, it was an emergency meeting early in the morning but that didn't mean one had to dress sloppily. He could hear Granny's howling as be bolted from his room's window, dashing off as fast as smoke filled lungs would allow. He knew what today was. He knew the plan before he set foot on the cliff, and he knew how vital he was.
He was the last to show up, of course, and hastily bowed to the others as he lit a cigar and jammed it between his teeth. Winking to Zeph a he flopped down in his chair. Adorned with a red satin cushion of his own making, and proceeded to kick back and lounge with closed eyes. He knew. And every fiber of his being was bristling with anticipation.
It was so hard to keep quiet through his comrades speech, but he did. He even kept quiet as everyone, one by one, voiced their objections. One the last had tried to sow their decent Cron bolted up and threw an arm over Zeph, smiling ear to ear as smoke billowed from his nostrils.
"C'mon you sorry lot. Has Windbag here ever led us astray before? You can all whine and moan if you want, but you know, you KNOW you're gunna come. You can't not, and there will never be a better time than when half the village is stuffed to a point of coma or as bombed as I usually am!" His gaze shifted to Pyrrha, eyes widening and mouth drooping into an exaggerated pout. "You're in at least, right sis..?"
He knew if he could get at least one of the group to fold, they'd all domino..