Twenty years.

Twenty years, Dain has been working as a mercenary, taking the odd job to kill some Dire Bass, Great Clam, and Giga Crab or to capture and/or kill someone because of one reason or another such as greed, envy, hate, a bounty, or for the simple fact that they were Human.

Dain was also a Human, though, so this caused some problems amongst the crowds.

Or at least, it used to cause problems. Not anymore.

Ever since he had started gaining a reputation for himself, the amount of people trying to beat, kill, or slight him in any way have slowly dwindled until it became only a vague thought for him. But everything was just a vague thought for him nowadays.

Still hasn't stopped them from underpaying him, though, but that just came with being Human.

"There has been a pack of Starch Eels -about half a dozen strong- lately that has been causing some problems for anyone following a certain trade route, I need them gone. 50 Shine for each head plus whatever their parts sell for. I've also caught wind that they are being led by a biggen', Dire I think, though the reports are pretty mixed with many saying it was a Great and not a Dire but I doubt their judgement considering the location. I'll give ya' 300 Shine for a Dire and 700 for a Great. Nothing more."

Ellix gave him a map with the location marked, shooing him away with his other hand.

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Dain hummed with both thanks and annoyance.

'Bass shit, those prices should be well over double than what they are.' He thought.

The man Dain had been listening to, Ellix, was a Dillman. Something that looked like a cross between an Eel and a Man with webbed fingers and a long, finned tail to make up for the lack of legs.

Usually, Dillman despised Humans, but Ellix was his job provider and so he only partially hated Dain.

Dain nodded his head and turned to walk out the building, the wet wood underneath him creaking and swaying with the water beneath, just like the rest of Dedtown was.

Dain hasn't spoken a word for what he believed were at least five years, only giving out the occasional grunt, hum, and whistle. For what reason, he doesn't know. Ever since he had become a merc' speaking had become rarer and rarer for him until he became a willing mute in essence. He had become so notorious for it, in fact, he had been given the title of "The Silence".

But that wasn't the only reason he had become so well known, and that wasn't the only reason he had that name.

As he stepped out of the house boat and onto the floating town, the general ambience began to dull down intensely before everything became quiet, with the exception of far off conversations and the occasional whisper. Even the birds stopped singing in his presence, silently watching amongst the mahogany trees. Everyone gave him space and parted ways if they were in his path.

He doesn't know why these people do this, acting like he was some mysterious thing that both needed to be hated and respected at once. He hasn't ever done anything to his knowledge that would warrant such a reaction.

But then again, he barely pays attention anymore, his mind fogged by trauma and general apathy to care enough to try and find out why, or to even think a little harder. He could barely recall his last job, something to do with an Aggerai noble, he thought.

Just like his voice, and just like his peers, his mind had become as silent as still cloth.