Due to the horrors in their past, they spent most of their time inebriated. It wasn't until, in a drunken fit, they took a swing at a member of Pax Humanis, that someone dragged them to a therapist, and get them cleaned up before it was too late. -- Fighting Fit
[AN: No word of a lie, if this happened in the core of the Alliance, there would have been an intervention WAY sooner than that. So this is happening around the Edge Territories]
Norwell woke with a splitting head. That was normal for him. What was not normal was the soft-looking individual waiting for him.
"...the flakk are you?"
"My name is Chance," said the Havenworlder. They looked like some bizarre kind of fluffy lizard wrapped in garments of soft felt. "I'm here to help you."
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