Eddy_B

I just got my domi up to lvl 23 last night and he is now fully slotted with SOs and im really really starting to love playing him. Ice slick is an awesome power and -rching stuff to hell is always fun. But I seem to be reading conflicting reports about things and just wanted to ask a few questions.

With DP is it really possible to go staminaless? atm im running assault and tactics, and also usually AA now, and along with DP and firing domination to recover my end, atm im not having huge troubles less im on really small teams. Is it possible or is it better to get it at some point?

Subdue, is it worth getting? its an immob which kinda counteracs iceslick (i took frostbite but only ever use it as a psudo hold and to knock down fliers, but will probs resec to the single target immob later). If its worth getting the slotting it with 1acc 3dam as usual?

Does AA need 6 slots? was going to go with 3endrdx 3 slow as the whole confuse part isnt as important to me, esp on bigger teams ive found.

Shiver, some say its great, others say its nice but not hugely needed. I mostly get into melee range now due to iceslick/AA and DS and then i can use mindprobe happily. Is shiver just good for the lower lvls and then respec out later? It seems like it would be a good opener to go along with scream, but otherwise AA should do the trick.

Also is it worth sloting tactics at all? I know you can stick LotG in there for perma-dom, but for now should i just stick a endrdx in there or a tohitbuff?

All help and advice greatly welcomed.
Domination FTW!

As far as I can see the only way to take out an MM is to use TP foe.

With Elude I could probs take out his bots, but he would just be able to summon more just as fast, and though they wouldnt be buffed, it would likely be an endless supply of minions to take out, unless of course I can keep the MM held while i take the pets out.

Repel and any form of knockback/knockdown doesn't bother me cos of Practiced Brawler (only found out why ppl hated nullifiers when i started up a domi)

Atm im mostly thinking about arena battles cos of DHP's pvp tourney. Zone battles are an entirely different thing, and definatly something ile think about later.

Atm short of a respec to get tp foe in my build then ile guess ile just have to try dam hard to take out my next battle (thugs/traps) which i think i stand about 0 chance of winning.

Well DM/SR has no KB and i never took Air Sup.
I can fear with ToF nicely, but against bots didnt seem to last long.
If i respec into a pvp build, tp foe is a likely tool ile pick up
and it was in the pocket d arena. How do you choose the site?
Also is it just really unsporting to not let MMs summon first? or it just funny?

Well I have soul storm from GW (awesome power) and i suppose i should have just popped elude to deal with him. But with that dam aoe power going off, i couldnt use AS at all. Guess TP foe is the only way to take out an MM for us stalkers, as taking out their small army (in this case, 3 minions, 2 lts, 1 boss, 1 dark servant and seeker drones) just is too much like hard work.

Last night i was bored and me and my MM friend decided to have a duel for fun. He is a bots/dark MM and i found it impossible to take him out, or barely hurt him. He just laid tar patch down, sat in BGM and waited. If it tried to AS him it did nothing, tried to AS minions the rest tore me apart. So any advice on how to take out MMs in general or do i just need a more pvp oriented build? as in tp foe?

I mostly soloed in the lower levels, or usually duoed. If you go solo then you need to learn the art of ghosting. Paper missions where you have to defeat X are great exp earners, but dull. Just hide to the end, smack the boss and his guards about and leave. Otherwise, doing normal missions in the same kinda way works great too. If its a steal/plant/find glowie type mish, just find the glowie, click it and try not to get spotted or take the spawn out around it. Short of kidknap and rescue mishs, you can do contact mishs very fast. Dont bother taking out the whole place, just not worth it. Take out a lone LT with an BU+AS for some easy exp. Also setting the diff to vicious means you get red bosses and orange lts, which makes it a lot better exp when you can still take em out fast enough.

My advice, if solo, ghost it unless its a kidknap/rescue mish. Learn who is good to duo with (other stalkers are great, otherwise MMs are often a fave then domis. Stay away from brutes and corrs unless on a bigger team).

If you on Union, hit me up @Mr Toxedo

Another great chapter! More More!

I can see quite a few invasion stories coming about as it really does seem to be a great story line and FFM I think you have set the benchmark. I eagerly await the 4th installment.

Very cool drawing.

Just a hint IM and to all, what makes a limerick a limerick is its basic structure. It's a 5 line short poem, where the 1st,2nd and 5th lines finish with the same sound, and the 3rd and 4th lines are shorter than 1/2/5 and have a seperate end sound that they share.

With that, here's my amateur attempt!

There was an evil villain named Mimey
Who looked up and saw something shiney
It came from the shade
A rocket grenade
The Titan made him go "Cor Blimey!"

Greatly looking forward to Part 3!

One question though, why are you writing about the invasion and not actually playing it?

I know why im not, cant bloody well use my pc as its broken and my laptop is too pathetic to be able to run anything vaguely decent *sighs*

Guess i should go and finisht he 3rd part of my stories.

What a great way to start off invasion. A very touching story.

Maybe a follow up to tell us what happens to the lil girl?

And this is one of your good guys?

A nicely told story, but she thinking of coming over to the darkside? I look forward to how this story develops.

That really is a great drawing!! The shadow bunny is great, gives me an idea for an alt, if i didnt alreayd have a DM/ stalker lol.

Any more drawings for us?

The second chapter for those who might want it, and don't feel like clicking a link


Chapter 2: Arrival

Location: Communications Tower - Mercy Island, Fort Cerberus.

"Flyer Zulu - Alpha - Golf, do your copy?" Three attempts is standard. This was his 6th. Tower Controller Greenberg didn't want to have to call the Arbiter over, but it looked like he was going to have to.
"Flyer Zulu - Alpha - Golf, do you copy? Dammit is anyone there?" His voice went just a little too loud at the end. The Arbiter was walking over.
"Problem?" The plain white visor of the Arbiter gave little away.
"Sir! It appears this flyer is having some kind of comms malfunction. No response to hails sir"
"Send flyers to intercept. Tell the pilot to decrease speed and descend with escort. He can explain to us the problem on the ground. Send Vos and two Wolf Spiders to meet the Flyer" The Arbiters voice was flat, calm, almost robotic.
"Yes sir!" Greenberg issued the orders. Amazingly the Flyer responded to the commands and followed the escort down to the helipad.
"Phew, might just survive another day after all." said Greenberg, the relief far from hidden in his face.

Location: Helipad - Mercy Island- Fort Cerberus.

The mystery flyer had landed without incident. Vos and two Wolf Spiders were waiting for the Flyer's hatch to open. Vos looked impatient.
"I haven't got all day. You! Get that hatch open!" He barked at one of the soldiers. He didn't know their names. Why should he? The soldiers exchanged nervous glances. The one Vos had pointed at took a step forward. The hatch door suddenly opened. The soldier took a step back. They both exchanged slightly more nervous glances.
"Well get in there! Someone might be hurt!" What shred of patience Vos had left was fading, fast. Both the soldiers raised their TacOp Clubs in the ready position, and carefully entered the Flyer. A silent minute passed. Silence wasn't good.
"What in Recluse's name are you two doing in there?" His patience had completely left him. He was never going to be able to concentrate on his paperwork after this. Vos stormed towards the Flyer's silent, empty hatch. Without drawing his Club he entered, and saw the two soldiers crumpled in unusual and anatomically uncomfortable positions.
"What the..." His right knee exploded in pain and quickly gave out from him. He landed hard on his side. Tidal waves of pain engulfed his entire body. His vision blurred. Teeth gritted together. The last thing he saw was a white-gloved fist coming at his face. Mime Artiste had arrived. He smoothed out his white glove as he strolled out of the Flyer. No one in the Tower saw anyone leave the Flyer. One of them could have sworn he saw something, but then he looked around at the ten empty coffee mugs at his desk, and promptly went back to work before the Arbiter caught him.

Location: Hobo Bob's Alley - Darwin's Landing.

Shanty Shacks. Rusting sheet metal. Damp cardboard. Rats. Stench of unwashed bodies, rotting food, vomit and worse.
"...would of moved if he'd just asked. No respect from some people. Wonder if that cute new nurse will..." Hobo Bob had come out of the alley rubbing his groin, and slowly shuffled away, continuing to mutter to himself.

The now former residence of Hobo Bob was one of the better-built shacks in the area. It only leaked in torrential rain, and the roof wasn't entirely metal, so it didn't sound like a machine gun testing range either. Inside the shack was a small metal waste bin with a crackling orange flame contained within, barely emitting enough heat to keep a rat's paw warm. The flickering light cast deep oppressive shadows. Probably a good thing, or you might locate the source of the rancid smell. Stacks of dusty old newspapers were everywhere, though they probably provided the support for the structure. Crumbs from a stale loaf of bread were slowly being carried away by the rats, which seemed blissfully unaware of the unmoving presence resting upon the stained mattress. Mime Artiste was asleep. His white-gloved hands gently folded across his chest. His painted face unmoving. But behind that calm exterior, things were not as quiet...

"They've put it up! They've put it up!" came the cry. The excitement spread though the brightly lit halls like fire through the forest. Mass of students jostling for position to look at the board in the hallway. Cries of joy. Celebrations. The call-back sheet was up for the Talos Talent Show. Waiting. Crowd moving on. Empty hall. Sound of solitary footsteps. Posted high up. Again. Getting box. Standing on it. Disappointment. Not on it. Again. Stepping off the box. A yellow Notice card at the bottom of the board. Message for him. Head's Office ASAP. What now?

"Come on in" friendly voice. Old voice. Door creaking. Grabbing a cushion to put on chair to be able to see over the desk. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We've got a few things to discuss" Old voice, not quite so friendly anymore. Hint of concern edging in. "Guess you saw the call-back sheet? Sorry you're not on it. But that's what we need to discuss. It's just...well, mime acts just don't cut it anymore. The whole not talking thing, worked fine before we had recording equipment. Now, well it isn't what people are looking for. Your tutors and I have been trying to figure out whether you don't talk because you do mime, or if you do mime because you don't talk. Actually, no one here even knows if you talk at all. And well my point is, I don't think we can continue your scholarship here at this school. Do you have anything to say?" Expectant look. Sliding off chair. Putting cushion back. Walking out door. Door Creaking.

Heartbreak. No one to say goodbye to. Room cleared. Stuff packed into invisible bag. Last look around. No good memories. Echoing hallway. Main door slamming in wind. Looking up at sign "Skyway City Performance School - Where the sky ISN'T the limit!" Head down. Scarf flapping. Hefting invisible bag. Heavier than it looked.

Rat squeaking. Mime Artiste's eyes snapped open. No time to hide. Someone sat down already. Newly stoked fire at her back. Odd shadows. No face visible.
"I would say I'm sorry to wake you, but I'm not. And no, don't try to move too much, you cant. At least not till morning. Speaking is so much easier when you have a 'captive' audience." The voice was female. Cold. A killer's voice.
"I have something of yours. May help you on cold nights such as these. But first you have to do something for me. I want you to retrieve something of mine and deliver it to my office." The voice had warmed slightly, like someone had struck a match in the Arctic. The woman's stiletto heel stomped down hard, crushing a rat's skull beneath it.
"Like you, I have a problem with rats. However mine are bigger and have names. This one is called Birch." Birch was uttered with a venomous edge. The woman talked for one more minute, giving a few details to Mime Artiste. She emerged from the shack, and signalled. Her bodyguards stepped out of the shadows.
"I quite like working with mutes. They don't ask questions." They strode off into the night, stiletto heels clicking.

Location: Kalinda's Office - Fort Cerberus

"Listen knuckle head. I don't care what you say you will do to me. Kalinda will do a lot worse. Her earliest appointment is next week. Take it or leave it" the secretary looked flustered. Dealing with so-called 'Paragon Refugees' had added ten years to the lines of her face, and probably shortened her lifespan by twenty. She was too busy trying not to scream down the end of the phone to notice the sound of Kalinda's door clicking shut.

Kalinda gazed out of her plate glass window. Hands folded behind her back. Her leather clad body, casting a harsh but womanly outline as the remains of the day's sunlight, surrendering to the night, cast a sepulchral shadow in the room. Kalinda turned around sharply. Her previously empty desk now had a data disk in the middle of it. Kalinda smiled.
"Well done. That's one less problem to deal with." Kalinda surveyed the room. Couldn't see anyone. There was no response.
"I know you are there. No need to hide from me. If you want your reward, I suggest you look in the bottom drawer of that filing cabinet." Kalinda directed her voice to the far corner of the room, where it was darkest, right beside the filing cabinet. A white-gloved hand appeared from the shadows, and gently opened the bottom drawer. A black and white scarf was carefully pulled out. Mime Artiste stepped out from the shadows. The scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck. He gave a slight bow, eyes fixed upon Kalinda.
"We know how much that scarf means to you, and as a gesture of good faith, we have returned it to you. Now, as much as I would love to have you continue working for me, especially after your work today, I have been ordered to refer you to a contact of mine; Seer Marino in Cap Au Diable." Kalinda had actually sounded sincere when saying she would like to keep Mime Artiste on. She had actually surprised her self with that. Mime Artiste gave a deeper, more theatrical bow and left Kalinda's office. The secretary jumped when she noticed him leaving. They always made her jump. When she recovered, she picked up her red pen, and crossed off the last name on Kalinda's appointment list.

Location: Cap Au Diable Ferry - 1 mile off the Coast of Mercy Island.

Nautical winds. Bitter cold. Sea spray. Grey skies. Waves crashing. Mime Artiste was sat on the top deck. His scarf tightly wrapped around him, shielding him from the harshest of the chilling wind. Eyes closed. Dozing...

Birthday. Single present. Plain brown paper. Soft wool. Happy. Loved

I liked this too. A nice and uplifting story without being too sappy. Well done.

I like it. Using heroes as test subjects will always be fun!

Could use some more of the madness though! I look forward to any more future nutty schemes you come up with!

Well picked up. It took me a long time to find 'site' in there. Well I don't pretent to be any kind of grammarian or decent speller, but I do try.

Glad you liked the story though.

This is the site ile be hosting future writings about Mime Artiste. Feel free to check it out, leave comments, whatever.

The sites still pretty rough, so bare with me.

Well for anyone who wants to continue with this story as it progresses, please check out this site.

http://mimeartiste.wordpress.com/

I'ts pretty basic atm, but ile expand it as i go.

Hope you enjoy the other chapters as much as you enjoy the first.

I was just wondering if anyone could reccommend a site where I could post up my writings related to my toon. Any good sites that host for free?

Would be great to be able to post them up, somewhere, as if i continue to write more, previous chapters will likely get lost.

ALl help greatly appreciated.

Well thanks for all the great feedback! Nice to know that my story actually managed to grab your interest.

Pain, was thinking about including the DHP into it, using names of ppl from the SG would probs be usefull. Already got an idea of how it might happen, mostly relating to Von Whiplash.

Well with feedback like this, im encouraged to write more about Mime and what happens to him. Stay tuned folks!

Wasn't his old avatar of G.W as a natural MM? MM as in villain? Now THAT is fitting.

What about a pic of George Bush in comparison with a Rikti Monkey?

Just a quick note to say that while my pc has been down, ive been typing away on my laptop. If you feel like it, check out the creative section of the forums and check out my post. And Wally, you might get a kick out of it too, i kinda needed a name for a tank, and thought of you.
Hope you enjoy it!

Below is what i wrote the other night when I got bored. Please leave some feedback, all constructive criticism welcome. If people like what they read, i'le consider writing some more, and maybe posting it up on a website somehwere. I hope you enjoy it.


Chapter 1: Prison Break

Location: The Zig - Paragon City.

Solid steel doors, cold stone, gloom. The big black hole that Paragon's greatest threats get thrown into.
An office: brightly lit, mahogany furniture, expensive pen, stacks of documents. A gentle knock at the heavy wooden door.
"Enter!" barked the Warden.
The door was tentatively pushed open, and in walked Jenkins. Jenkins was new here. A doctor of criminal psychology, Masters in Psychotherapy and advanced training from Longbow in Villain Management. However, being in this place, still totally freaked him out. He got this job remarkably easily, but then The Zig always seemed to be advertising for his very position. He was beginning to see why.
"We've got a new arrival today Jenkins. Inmate 230486. I want you to do his evaluation, write it up and report back." The Warden didn't even look up from his desk as he said this.
"On my own sir?" Jenkins audibly gulped.
"Use Sai Ki if you need to, but yes you will be handling this one on your own. I'm sure your ready. You may leave now Jenkins."

Jenkins entered the interview room with as much confidence as he could muster. Not as much as he would have liked, but it would have to do. The room was bare except for three stainless steel chairs around a square stainless steel table. A single uncovered bulb hung from the ceiling. The heavy steel door he had just come through was guarded by two longbow officers. Inmate 230486 was already seated, his hands in chains tethered to the floor. If Jenkins had seen the site that met his eyes anywhere else, he probably would have laughed, not that he did much of that these days. The inmate's feet dangled off the chair far from the floor, and a small face looked up at him, just peering over the table's surface. Jenkins didn't like ones like this. Vertically challenged was the politically correct term, but to him it would always be midget. Jenkins hated midgets. They freaked him out.

"Inmate 230486. Well I can't continue to call you that. How about you start by telling me your name." began Jenkins, a slight hint of nervousness in his voice. A new inmate always made him a bit edgy, he never quite knew what was going to happen. He got no response from the inmate, who merely stared at him, his painted face unmoving. His expression was as cold as the stainless steel furniture of the interview room.
"Do you have a name? Do you talk? You do talk don't you?"
The inmate merely raised a shackled, white-gloved hand, and closed it into a loose fist, as if he was holding onto something. He then lifted his other hand up too, forming another loose fist just behind the first. What happened next made the counsellor even more nervous. The inmate pulled himself forwards, as if pulling an invisible rope, and pulled his chair slowly closer towards the table. A brief shudder ran down Jenkins' back as he began to realise what the thing in front of him was meant to be, a mime. Jenkins pushed the intercom button,
"Get me Sai Ki please, this one doesn't talk" There was no response, at least not verbally, but Jenkins nodded. Soon after, the heavy steel door groaned as it was slowly swung open, and in walked Sai Ki, The Zig's in-house Empath. Sai Ki was a quiet girl. She wore loose comfortable clothing, too shy to wear the skintight spandex like other heroes. She sat down in the remaining empty chair, facing the new inmate directly. She first looked at him closely. His black beret, his baggy black and white striped top, his little white gloves, and his odd painted face. She looked deep into his eyes, and then slowly reached her hands out to touch him.

Delving into the criminal mind is dangerous at the best of times. The horrors, the violence, the pain and suffering that it can contain. But this mind was different. It was filled with sadness, rejection and loss. Sai Ki began to wander through his psyche, trying to discover the source of this sadness, but didn't have to wander long till she found what she was looking for. His sadness wasn&'t buried; his violent nature wasn't routed deep into his subconscious, but at the very forefront of his mind. Vengeance. The all-consuming desire to see those who would shun him, pay the ultimate price.

Paragon City, the City of Heroes. Statues. A park. Atlas. People, lots of people, and heroes, lots of heroes. Hot dog stands, vendors, public speakers, poets, park benches, picnics, entertainers; jugglers, fire breathers and spinners, stilt walkers and street magicians. People having fun, laughing and smiling. Everyone enjoying themselves, even when the odd hero decided to show up a fire breather, by doing a bit of their own. People going about their lives, just enjoying a beautiful day in Atlas Park. A lone entertainer in the midst of this, trying to please a crowd, earn a living, be noticed. Probably didn't help that he was only 4ft tall, but it seemed to add to the comedy of it. He would do the usual expected stuff, pushing against invisible walls, pulling invisible ropes, doing simple magic tricks; rabbits out of hats, flowers from his sleeve, coins from people's ears. When he got someone who snubbed him, who couldn't even take the brief second to acknowledge he was there, that was when his fun would really begin. He would sneak up behind his intended mark, and copy his actions; his walk, his mannerisms. When the mark stopped, he stopped. When the mark turned around, he turned around. When the mark got angry because people laughed at him, he would produce a fistful of confetti, throw it in the marks face, and run back to his spot in the park, just waiting for his next mark to come along. He was a mime. A mime artiste.

The image shifted sharply. Atlas Park again. A small group of rookie heroes, sauntering towards where Miss Liberty stood. One of them, Wally, a 7ft tall slab of muscle bound testosterone didn't look where he put his size 16s. He had crushed the poor mime's foot. Looking down he saw a tiny white-gloved fist banging against his leg, he had barely noticed. Wally didn't like mimes; they were the only things he was scared of, and for a guy that laughed at bullets, that was saying something. He picked up the mime by the scruff of his striped top, and threw him over to one side. The mime landed hard, but didn't utter a sound. Noticing what was going on, and in a very un-hero like manner, Wally's friends just pointed and laughed at the mime. No emotion showed on the face of the mime, it had one permanently painted upon it. The group of rookies then went on to make fun of the mime, he was taunted, surrounded by rings of fire, his feet encased in ice and trapped in a tesla cage. He was made to levitate, and the final insult, flung backwards by a force field from one of the new heroes. The mime looked around, looking for someone to come to his rescue, wasn't this city supposed to be full of heroes? Where was one when you needed one? Who would come to the rescue? The rookie heroes got bored quickly, and moved on to seek out Miss Liberty, but the mime was still down on the floor, his painted tear seeming to glisten, as if it were real. It wasn't a hero that picked him up, but another one of the entertainers, a juggler who had come into town with the Carnival. This unlikely Samaritan took him to meet the Ring Mistress, the Boss of the Carnival of Shadows.
"Hmm, I think we could use one such as you. Take him to the Training Tent."

Pain. Excruciating pain. Cold. Deathly cold. Darkness. Total Darkness. The Netherworld. The Dark Dimension, inhabited by the foulest of spirits, the most devilish of demons. More pain. And yet more pain.

Voices in the dark. Whispering. Ghostly. A bright blinding light. Power. Dark Power. No more pain.

"You ready? Well you'd better be!" A sandbag on a rope was released, swinging towards the mime, barely missing. More followed. Then, more than just sandbags: swords, axes and maces were swung faster and faster. Dodging the onslaught with supernatural reflexes.

The Big Top. Lights. Picture of him on a poster. Crowds. Laughter. Applause. Silence. Confusion. Panic. Screaming. Fear. Blood.

Sai Ki slowly opened her eyes as she gently removed her hands from the mime. Her head felt fuzzy, as it always did when breaking a psychic connection. She looked at the counsellor, and then back at the inmate
"Mime Artiste" was all she could utter. The inmate nodded.
"What happened to you was cruel and unfair, but you were an entertainer! You loved making the people of Paragon laugh! You used to revel in the musical sound of it! You must use that passion to heal yourself. To help you move on from the sadness that fills you." Her heart felt as if it was about to break with the terrible sadness that flowed out of the mime and through her. Mime Artiste merely looked at her, his painted expression still blank and motionless. There was no longer a tear painted upon his face anymore, just the cold hard stare of the criminally insane.
"You freak me out sometimes Sai Ki, but then I guess you already knew that" said Jenkins, nervously adjusting his tie.
"He was treated badly by those who should help. It made him bitter, angry, resentful, but worst of all, disillusioned." Sai Ki had a sad look on her face as she spoke.
"So what do you suggest we do with him?"
"I suggest that we...we uh...umm..." Sai Ki's mind had gone blank. Who was she talking about? What was going on? Jenkins looked more worried. Mime Artiste had made some kind of hand movement; right around the time Sai Ki got confused. Mime Artiste then raised his hand again, pointing his finger at Jenkins. Terrible images flashed through his mind trying to tear it apart; spiders encasing him in a giant web, a pit of deadly snakes slithering all over him, trapped in a coffin, desperately scrabbling to get free. He began to tremble, he covered his face with his arms, and trying anything to protect himself from the sheer terror he felt. He felt as if his mind was going to cave in. He cowered, scared out of his mind, his heart racing, the deafening sound of blood surging through his veins.

A sharp slap across the face brought him back to reality. Sai Ki politely ignored the dark stain running down his trousers. Jenkins looked up with wide eyes, and managed to just gain enough composure to notice what was wrong, so very wrong. Mime Artiste wasn't there anymore.
"This is going to mean a lot of paperwork." He sighed into his hands as he rubbed at his temples. Sai Ki went to hit the alarm. Before her hand got close, klaxons had already begun to blare out. Something else was wrong. Sai Ki stopped moving, and then her face went totally white. Arachnos troops were attacking! The inmates were rioting! The prison guards and Longbow were totally overwhelmed. Hatred. Rage. Pain. Blood. Slaughter. It was too much for her delicate mind to handle, and it promptly shut down, trying desperately to protect itself from the onslaught of negative psychic energy.

In the ensuing riot, no one seemed to notice the strange little shadow. No one seemed to notice the Arachnos Flyer taking off, leaving a pilot in a heap on the floor. They did however notice the radio tower exploding. The Mime Artiste was free. His painted face seemed to be almost smiling, almost. He was leaving the bright lights of Paragon City behind him. He steered the flyer towards the only place left for beings such as him, The Rogue Isles.