Meeting the Misfits (S2E12)

Peace, it seems, can sometimes only be found in the eye of the storm - a truth I discovered when I finally met the so-called Misfits… An apt name fitting for a group of chaotic, endlessly bickering miscreants harkening from different countries, races and paths of life. They might just be the most dysfunctional found family in all of Mayhaos, incapable of surviving a civil conversation without threatening to draw their blades, fangs, talons, or whatever happens to be their weapon of choice.
 
I suppose I should have seen this coming, Gurval did warn me in advance that his “Milk Buddies” can get a bit intense. Bit of an understatement, that’s for sure, but the excited glint in his eyes as he wheeled both Ko Rava and I to the designated meeting spot - a non-descript tavern located on the outskirts of the Emerald District - was contagious. I couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and dread, wondering what exactly I had signed myself up for.
 
I remember when we first approached the tavern, the sounds of raucous laughter and occasional shouting leaked through the cracked door. I hesitated for a moment, but Gurval, ever the optimist, gave me an encouraging push.
 
"Don't worry, you'll fit right in," he said with a reptilian grin that bordered on manic.
 
There's a saying I learned during my training at Foo's Temple: "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Now, as I prepare to intercept and take down the Triad for good, those words have never felt more true. The path ahead will be gruelling -especially because it means confronting my mother for the first time in years. I can already feel the searing intensity of her glare, hear the venom dripping from her words, no longer aimed at me as her daughter, but as a traitor. But perhaps what falls behind this door is all it will take to set things in motion - to shatter her iron grip on power and end her reign of tyranny once and for all. After all, a single tree does not make a forest; nor can a single string make music. It is only as a team, no matter how fragmented, that I can achieve my goals.
 
With a deep breath, I stepped inside, the overwhelming scent of spilled ale and unwashed bodies hitting me first. The clamour of voices grew louder as Gurval made his way to the centre of the room, where a large table was already surrounded by the rest of the "Milk Buddies." In order: a bald, stumpy Dwarf with a fiery-red beard and fists two times the size of my head; a hooded, emerald-hued Solen with a pensive stare; a beautiful Gold Elf who illuminated the otherwise shadowy tavern like a living lantern; a silver Lupo with moonlit eyes and adorned by tribalistic feathers and furskin; and most notably, a solemn Green Elf slumped along the table, slurring to the barkeep for absinthe. Behind him, another Golden Elf weaved unsteadily through the crowd (perhaps her brother, or lover?), the coils of his long braid following him as he precariously balanced a tray of pints. The luminous green liquid within swayed with each step, threatening to spill.
 
"Gurval," a gravelly voice spoke from the table. It was the dwarf. "What is the meaning of this?"
 
I swallowed my nervousness, only to realise that the malice in his voice was not directed to me, but rather the Leishu that stood by my side. I felt the static of her fur rising as she shot daggers towards him with her narrowed eyes. "Arthom."
 
The tension between Ko Rava and Arthom was palpable, crackling like a storm about to break. I’d heard whispers about what had happened - Arthom's ruthless attack on the Yakuza, an operation that had claimed the life of Ko Rava’s older sister (though, not bound by blood but perhaps something even stronger). Though she and I shared a mutual desire to see the Triad burn, it was clear there was unfinished business between her and the dwarf.
 
Gurval attempted to break the ice, before quickly diverting their attention to me. "Guess who's back! And I brought along a new friend, too. Meet my little Porch Monkey!"
 
I waved sheepishly to the Misfits, all of whom watched me with uneasy silence. "Hello... I'm Yifeng."
 
The Lupo spoke first. "Oh, Ko! Welcome back. We've missed you... And hello there, what was your name sorry?"
 
From there, everything was a blur as I was suddenly swept into a storm of questions, accusations and startled revelations - towards me and towards each other.
 
They prodded me about my past, my intentions and my reasons for joining their crusade. The questions came faster than I could answer, the Misfits’ overlapping voices adding to the cacophony. Like the unfurling branches of a bonsai tree, more conversations sprung open - everything, everywhere, all at once. I breathed, slow and steady, trying to process the emotional onslaught that came with the unloading of everyone's motivations, grievances and the solo adventures they had undertaken in each other's absence - this was a reunion, after all.

Based on what I could surmise:
*After the initial shock of Ko Rava's return, most of the Misfits embraced her with open arms. She rebuked their warmth, remaining unrelenting and unforgiving toward Arthom's crimes against the Yakuza - her new family (ouch.) Despite this, she eventually agreed to rejoin the Misfits so they could assist her in taking down the Triad and defending her younger brother's honour, which hangs precariously by a thread. However, she set one condition: there must be a trial where Arthom would face rightful consequences for his actions. The pacifist within me found this agreeable, believing most problems could be resolved through bureaucratic and non-violent means. But I digress.
 
*Cyrus, the hooded Solen, revealed his goal to pay off his brother’s debt and sever his ties to the gang that had entangled his life for far too long. His plan? To eradicate all the other gangs in Mayhaos, creating a power vacuum that would strengthen the Cartel and provide opportunity for him and his brother to escape the mercenary life. It was a calculated, if morally ambiguous, strategy - one which demanded the spilling of blood. I steadied my quickening heart, remaining silent in my deep disapproval. Violence only begets further violence. He is merely 17, yet already marked by the looming shadow of blood-thirst. Perhaps I can steer the young man into a righteous path, blessed by the light of Foo. But only time will tell.
 
*Lucid, the drunken Green Elf, spoke with surprising coherence when it came to his own vendetta. The Morvor cultists that had killed his father, the Chief of Larrion, were still at large, spreading chaos. A twist of fate brought a visit from the violet-skinned Prince Luini, whose family had also fallen victim to Titan cults - and appears to be a familiar face to the Misfits. Their shared grief and resolve forged an alliance, turning Lucid’s personal mission into something far greater than himself.
 
*The arrival of the Blackskull Pirates, led by their charismatic (and EXTREMELY attractive) Captain Kyra, only added more sparks to the flame. They pledged their loyalty to Lucid, though Gurval remains insistent in his disassociation with the "Corpse" due to the dark, soul magic that involved the Blackskull Captain's essence inhabiting the vessel that is Lucid's physical body (and admittedly, gifting him a bountiful posterior). With Kyra’s crew at our disposal, the Misfits reached a unanimous decision: to prioritise Lucid’s quest. First, we would recover his father’s body, give the Chief a proper burial and then dismantle the Titan cult piece by piece.
 
As the (figurative) storm cleared within the tarven, still abuzz with life, I saw glimpses of unity within this chaotic group. And perhaps I am the missing link that could restore balance and heal the fractures of this broken family. With the might of Foo on my side, I know that I can handle anything.