Edgeworth doesn't like the feeling of being watched. Already he can feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end and a chill, tingly sensation spreading down his spine. From the corner of his eye, he could see something move among the greenery - a clump of branches? Antlers? It's not near enough for him to discern exactly what it is. Perhaps you can see it?
When he can't stand it anymore, he follows those moving branches, a hand already on the hilt of his saber. Unfortunately, stepping on dry, dead leaves and kicking some pebbles out of the way give his position away...and by the time Edgeworth manages to sprint toward the spot where he thought he saw those moving branches...all the plants and trees in the vicinity are quiescent. The creature, needless to say, has slithered away.
He looks around...until he spots you. Were you running from something? Looking for firewood? Sorry, here comes Edgeworth, walking up to you and asking HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MONSTER.]
This may sound strange...but did you see a clump of moving branches there? [He points to the spot some distance ahead. The branches there are not the moving type.]
[PHASE II-B
Night has fallen. Edgeworth is sitting under a tree, folding up his jacket into a makeshift pillow. His cravat is stuffed into a pocket, and his sword hilt is propped up against the large tree trunk. Looks like he's getting ready to sleep...
...until he changes his mind and grabs his weapon, sliding the sword out of its scabbard in one fluid motion. Edgeworth jumps to his feet, dropping his jacket. There are eyes in the treetops, eyes in gaps in the bushes...he's being watched again. By what, exactly? He doesn't know. The silence is interrupted by the rustling of leaves, breaking twigs, and his loud, clear voice.]
Who's there?
[He's just standing there, ready to cut down the first monster that charges, glancing around to see if any of those eyes wanted to come closer.]
[PHASE IV-A
Prosecutor versus Wild is more like it. Edgeworth certainly looks the worse for wear - his hair is damp from washing in the river, his sleeves are rolled up, his clothes have tiny tears and dirt smears all over, and his cravat is absent, safely tucked away in a pocket.
His sword is drawn and he can be seen taking on a large, furry creature howling before charging toward him. Edgeworth dodges to the side, narrowly avoiding the claws that only scratch his wrist, but he trips and falls onto the ground, still tightly gripping his only weapon.]
Distract it! I'll kill it! [He cries out to the nearest Cerealite...which could be you, and tries to get back onto his feet.]
[PHASE IV-B + bonus
That beast won't be enough for an entire day's meal, so Edgeworth is going to sit by the river, on a rock, attempting to carve out a spear from a fallen tree branch with his sword. His face looks sullen and So Done With Everything, but that colorful bird strutting about in the grass behind him is in high spirits, chirping as he grits his teeth. His workmanship is dreadful and pitted with marks where his carving went awry, and the point...let's not speak of the point.
He drops the branch with a sigh, staring at the river. Maybe if he just took his shirt off and jumped in and stabbed the nearest monster...nah.]
OPEN like THE GREAT JUNGLE
Edgeworth doesn't like the feeling of being watched. Already he can feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end and a chill, tingly sensation spreading down his spine. From the corner of his eye, he could see something move among the greenery - a clump of branches? Antlers? It's not near enough for him to discern exactly what it is. Perhaps you can see it?
When he can't stand it anymore, he follows those moving branches, a hand already on the hilt of his saber. Unfortunately, stepping on dry, dead leaves and kicking some pebbles out of the way give his position away...and by the time Edgeworth manages to sprint toward the spot where he thought he saw those moving branches...all the plants and trees in the vicinity are quiescent. The creature, needless to say, has slithered away.
He looks around...until he spots you. Were you running from something? Looking for firewood? Sorry, here comes Edgeworth, walking up to you and asking HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MONSTER.]
This may sound strange...but did you see a clump of moving branches there? [He points to the spot some distance ahead. The branches there are not the moving type.]
[PHASE II-B
Night has fallen. Edgeworth is sitting under a tree, folding up his jacket into a makeshift pillow. His cravat is stuffed into a pocket, and his sword hilt is propped up against the large tree trunk. Looks like he's getting ready to sleep...
...until he changes his mind and grabs his weapon, sliding the sword out of its scabbard in one fluid motion. Edgeworth jumps to his feet, dropping his jacket. There are eyes in the treetops, eyes in gaps in the bushes...he's being watched again. By what, exactly? He doesn't know. The silence is interrupted by the rustling of leaves, breaking twigs, and his loud, clear voice.]
Who's there?
[He's just standing there, ready to cut down the first monster that charges, glancing around to see if any of those eyes wanted to come closer.]
[PHASE IV-A
Prosecutor versus Wild is more like it. Edgeworth certainly looks the worse for wear - his hair is damp from washing in the river, his sleeves are rolled up, his clothes have tiny tears and dirt smears all over, and his cravat is absent, safely tucked away in a pocket.
His sword is drawn and he can be seen taking on a large, furry creature howling before charging toward him. Edgeworth dodges to the side, narrowly avoiding the claws that only scratch his wrist, but he trips and falls onto the ground, still tightly gripping his only weapon.]
Distract it! I'll kill it! [He cries out to the nearest Cerealite...which could be you, and tries to get back onto his feet.]
[PHASE IV-B + bonus
That beast won't be enough for an entire day's meal, so Edgeworth is going to sit by the river, on a rock, attempting to carve out a spear from a fallen tree branch with his sword. His face looks sullen and So Done With Everything, but that colorful bird strutting about in the grass behind him is in high spirits, chirping as he grits his teeth. His workmanship is dreadful and pitted with marks where his carving went awry, and the point...let's not speak of the point.
He drops the branch with a sigh, staring at the river. Maybe if he just took his shirt off and jumped in and stabbed the nearest monster...nah.]
[WILD CARD
Hit me with your best shot.]