there is no greater pain
or punishment than memory

Quinn did not like being idle. Now he might have a different meaning to the word than others might, but doing nothing? He couldn't deal with much of that in his life. He was almost always on the go, or doing something constructive with his time when he could. But then he was also certified in many different areas, too. He felt that he was pretty well rounded in what he was certified in, though most of what he had started out with was more along the lines of mercenary skills. He had kept up with a lot of things that helped him be a better mercenary, though it was something he had been doing through many lifetimes. Quinn had been a mercenary before his first lifetime here in Shaman, though that was a whole other thing. There had been no Guide of the Dead that came to him the last time he had been here, but there was the possiblity that phoenixes did not get that kind of treatment. He held within him the physiology of one, and thus he reincarnated often enough, though he honestly wished so many times over that he would not. Quinn did not feel like that this time, because here and now he was happy enough with his life. He had settled down where troublemaking was concerned, so that meant something.

He was trying to work with the land and it's inhabitants rather than against it. He had found that the royals and even some of the others were good with their rewards for jobs. Bounties and quests seemed plentiful enough, and that was something that Quinn enjoyed. Something he could keep himself busy with rather than feeling bored when he had too much free time. Though now he had plenty of things to do in that, too. He did not think he would ever be a singer, but he was trained as a musician, and he did find some peace in playing piano or violin. Still, he felt more alive when he was in battle, and that was what he really lived for. A good fight. That was why most of his powers where physical; strength, speed, endurance, equilibrium, eternal youth, immortality, healing. He had a few other things that were part of essential self, and some that were not; the vampirism aspect was new, though the appeal of blood was not. Yes, Quinn still had physical things to add to the collection of power. These were goals he could aspire to. And he was of the Abeo branch after finding his ren, which had other physical aspects to play around with as the levels came. It was closer to what he'd once had, and that was comforting.

Last time he had been here, his powers were so much less, and he mostly hunted and sold meat and pelts. Did a few quest things, but he had been pretty occupied with the hunting and trying to figure out more about this place. He had spent a good amount of time in Silver Cove back then, though there wasn't a lot he really remembered of those who had lived here. The guy with all the odd mechanical things and such, Quinn did remember him. But that was probably because the man had been so strange to him at the time. It had been a simple type of life, and simple had been good for him. He wasn't sure he considered life for him now to be simple with all the things he got into, but he didn't try to make it all that complex, either. He was happy enough where life was at right now, though he still had to keep himself busy, find battle outlets, and have overall goals to keep him from doing something that he may or may not regret later. Quinn had taken on a lot of people and creatures that most would want to caution against, and while most he did not even regret, there were some things that came out of those events that he wasn't pleased about. He wasn't happy that things had gone south in the last play for power, but not about what had happened to him, but others alongside him.

Not pissing off a bard was a good idea. How many songs immortalized kings and others of note? And how many of those songs weren't good, and might be linked to the bard's dislike? Quinn had studied music enough to have an idea on how all that worked, though he might not have otherwise paid enough attention to the matter. It was all in who told the tales and how many did so. In how far and wide those tales went. This part was understood enough to attch to all the musician training, though they were not the only ones who immortalized others. Artists did as well, and Quinn had certifications in both painting and sculpting, and these had long been hobbies of his. Long before he had begun to learn how to play a piano, in fact. There were enough paintings and sculptures of some who had been in his life out there, and once, a painting had brought one such being back into his life. But he was not here at the castle for any of that, no. He had visited to take up a challenge in the arena, because there were some boasting challenges that Quinn simply could not pass up. It was one of his flaws, in fact. Jumping into fights that didn't have anything to do with him, or just finding the next fight in general to throw himself into.

Quinn did not know quite how to feel about this bubble of a place underwater, because it wasn't really his idea of a place to live. Too much magic supporting it, and he had known magic to fail far too many times to be comfortable with it. Which was why he had not brought many of his animals, save for his hunting birds, two harpy eagles in case the fight allowed for one of them up against Jacinto's eagle, and Corca who had the ability to grow fins and was wrapped loosely around his neck. The lavender snake liked to go most places with him, and Quinn thought that Vhetiveer liked it that way. A rabbit thing, Quinn figured. Either way, he was taking some relaxing moments when he saw the man with the shining mail on. Curiousity stirred Quinn into walking ever closer to the guy that looked like a challenge just by being there. Quinn had no chainmail, but he did have dragonskin armor and his two katanas with their sheaths strapped on his back. Quinn wasn't sure if that made him look like much, but he had lived on the fact that he did not look to be what he really was. He doubted that anyone would peg him for a warrior at all if he did not have the armor on or the katanas. He was tall and lean, not built bulky like many warriors he had met. But that did nothing to hamper his abilities. And he walked up toward the man with the shining mail, pausing a polite few feet away. "You have the out of place, shiny new look to you." A light comment, meant only to gain some sort of response in return.